


Nihta

by QueenTzahra



Category: CLAMP - Works, X -エックス- | X/1999
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Child Abuse, Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, Domestic Violence, Emotionally Repressed, Flashbacks, If You Love Me Answer Me Softly, Infidelity, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mother Issues, Mother-Son Relationship, New York City, Oral Sex, Repressed Memories, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-15 00:56:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 62,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9212444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenTzahra/pseuds/QueenTzahra
Summary: We're all victims of circumstance. Stable or chaotic, loving or fearful, content or furious: we carry how we grew up in our bodies, even if we ignore or suppress the memories. Seishiro begins to remember after Subaru breaks up with him and leaves his apartment for the last time. His mind and body force him to explore his past, recent and distant, to find answers. What will he learn?





	1. 01

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [If You Love Me, Answer Me Softly](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7484628) by [QueenTzahra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenTzahra/pseuds/QueenTzahra). 



> Good morning! Happy Thursday!
> 
> So this fic... Oof.
> 
> A little explanation: back in October, I was talking to my dear friend SilverServerError about If You Love Me, Answer Me Softly (you know, as you do) and she was asking me about Seishiro and sort of, why he is the way he is. My response was "pfft I dunno" because truthfully, I hadn't given it any thought. All I knew was that his behavior made Subaru's life difficult, I didn't really care why. She told me she had a whole headcanon about it and asked to run it by me. WHO WOULD SAY NO TO THAT?! So we ended up discussing it for, I'm not kidding, a good four hours (best Friday night ever!) and the next morning, this fic came into being, fully formed in my head, while I was grocery shopping.
> 
> So yeah, it's entirely her fault. At first I really didn't want to write this, and with very good reason. However, she talked me into it and I agreed to do it for NaNoWriMo (a goal of mine since I was about seventeen, so yay!).
> 
> Okay! People to thank, because this fic to a village, let me tell you!
> 
> Firstly, to my flesh and blood friends and boyfriend, who supported and encouraged me throughout this whole thing, even when they didn't really know how.
> 
> Second, to my brother, truly the Subaru to my Hokuto, for sharing his experiences as a young gay man with me. I'm immeasurably grateful for his bravery, honesty and patience as I picked his brain for five hours over the phone, then in subsequent texts.
> 
> Third, to my mother, for reading (THE CENSORED VERSION OF) If You Love Me and getting far more interested in Seishiro than anyone else. She was visiting me, and we ended up talking about him the entire weekend, but her opinion just reaffirmed where I was planning to go and made me feel much more confident about my choices.
> 
> Fourth, to my Twin Star, for giving me the title (Night in Greek!) and for explaining to me some truly fascinating and relevant mythology, as well as for her excitement and encouragement. She's been wonderful!
> 
> Lastly, to SilverServerError, the father of this story. She was INVALUABLE to me throughout this process with her unwavering support, love, encouragement and hype. At all hours I could text her to ask for help or vent or cry or whatever else, and she met me where I was. I am so lucky and grateful, I can't even express it. This fic was the most emotionally taxing thing I've ever written, I wouldn't have been able to do it without her.
> 
> RIGHT! Let me shut up now. Enjoy chapter 1!

 

"You aren't even going to say goodbye?" Seishiro asked, raising an eyebrow. Subaru closed his eyes for a moment, his face falling into the soft pain Seishiro knew so well.

"Can you guys give me a second?" He asked, looking over at the people he'd brought with him. Kamui, the one Seishiro recognized, the one who had been trying to steal Subaru away, looked horrified, but his friend cut across him.

"Are you sure?" He asked, his tone deadly serious. Seishiro wanted to roll his eyes, but restrained himself. What did they think he was going to do, really? Subaru nodded, and his friend continued, "We'll be outside. Come on, Kamui." Kamui clenched his fists, and Seishiro smirked; he'd gotten under his skin.

"Is this what you wanted? To come into Subaru's life and disrupt everything?" "And what will you do after this? Play house until Subaru comes back to me?"

"I-"

Yes. He'd definitely gotten under his skin. Good. Let him suffer. That's what he got for interfering in their relationship, for intruding. Seishiro felt his stomach clench uncomfortably as he watched Kamui and his friend drag Subaru's suitcase back down the hallway and out of his apartment. Subaru turned to face him again. His expression was strange, and not one Seishiro had seen before. It was as though the pain, so soft and quiet a moment ago, had hardened and sharpened. Seishiro waited, but said nothing.

A moment's silence passed before Subaru sighed and reached into his pocket for his keys. His long, slender fingers found the two keys he needed to get into this apartment and removed them from the ring. He held them out to Seishiro, who just stared at them. Subaru had beautiful hands. It had been one of the first things he'd noticed.

He returned his gaze to Subaru's face. He was still wearing that same strange expression. He was definitely angry, Seishiro could tell. However, usually when he was angry it was cute, containable, easily pacified or derailed. Now, though, his eyes were burning with tiredness and… Was it contempt? No… "After you begged and begged me for them?" Seishiro asked, his stomach clenching uncomfortably again. Subaru flushed. There, that was familiar.

"I won't need them anymore," Subaru informed him, his voice shaky but determined.

"Ah," Seishiro replied. He seriously doubted this and still wouldn't reach for the keys. He didn't want to touch Subaru anyway, not with his face like that. Subaru placed the keys on the back of the couch, then looked Seishiro in the face. His eyes flashed again.

"You weren't supposed to be here," he said, and the anger in his voice was unmistakable. Again, it wasn't the half hearted, fearful anger or the weary, begging displeasure Seishiro had long since come to expect. The only other time he'd seen this anger had been the day before, when they'd been talking on the couch. Seishiro still didn't really know what to do about it, but- No. That wasn't true. He knew Subaru inside and out. Subaru was easy, simple. It was that boy, Kamui, telling him god knows what, that had started all of this.

Seishiro just tilted his head to the side, trying to keep his own expression impassive and neutral. He couldn't provoke Subaru by getting angry or raising his voice; that only scared him away. When Seishiro was quiet, Subaru would come to him, would do all the work. This was only right, considering it was Subaru who had done wrong in the first place. He was definitely aware of this, though Seishiro doubted he understood it on an intellectual level.

"I knew you'd be back," Seishiro said, as though it were obvious, which it had been from the moment Subaru had left the day before. After their conversation on the couch, Seishiro had returned to his dark bedroom and slammed the door. He leaned against it, breathing deeply, listening and waiting. He'd expected to hear Subaru's fists on the door or him crying and begging to be let in, despite being told explicitly to leave. Subaru was so needy; he always had trouble hearing things like that correctly.

Seishiro had listened to him cry with a deep satisfaction until, "Kamui?" Anger had flared alarmingly inside Seishiro, but he'd kept breathing and listening until Subaru had actually left. Well, if Subaru wanted to run crying to someone else, let him. He could enjoy one night away, one night of exploration and subsequent disappointment (because, truly, what could someone like Kamui give to Subaru that Seishiro couldn't?) before coming back to what he actually needed. Seishiro was displeased, of course, but he'd forgive Subaru. Eventually.

"I know you well," he reminded him. Subaru's eyes flashed yet again, and Seishiro smiled. Even through this ugly, hard anger, he could still see Subaru. He really was adorable when his emotions were so intense, when he felt them so hard, when they clouded his judgment.

"You only know the me you can control," Subaru said. Seishiro's smile widened.

' _That's all of you, Subaru_ ,' he thought. ' _You showed me everything so easily, it was only_ Kamui _who started forcing you to keep secrets_.' Out loud, though, all Seishiro said was, "Control is a strong word." He sounded more amused than he'd intended, and Subaru's expression hardened still further.

"You know who you _want_ me to be," Subaru started to say, and his voice rose alarmingly as he continued. "You know the me who is scared of losing you and will do what you say-"

' _That is you, Subaru_ ,' Seishiro thought.

"-but I'm done!"

' _We'll see_.'

"This has nothing to do with Kamui or anyone else!"

' _That's bullshit and you know it_.'

"This was never going to work and I should have known better!"

' _So cute…_ '

"I'm _done_. You wanted goodbye? Goodbye."

Seishiro just stared, smiling his usual impassive smile, waiting, drawing it out, letting Subaru's emotions build and build. At last, he said, "All right, Subaru." Subaru gave him a contemptuous look, then turned to go. Like a striking predator, Seishiro reached out and caught him by the wrist. He could feel his pulse under the warm, smooth skin.

"Let go of me!" Seishiro raised his eyebrows and tightened his grip in spite of himself.

"I'll always love you, you know," he said, softly spiteful. He could see the words fighting to take hold of Subaru and keep him there, but he somehow managed to fight back. This was another Kamui thing, and Seishiro didn't like it at all. He shouldn't have to get physical, his words should be enough; they'd always been enough. His touch was a reward, withdrawing it was punishment. Subaru wrenched his wrist out of Seishiro's grip, and he felt the action all the way up his own arm.

"I loved the man I met in Tokyo, but he's been gone a long time!" Subaru said, his voice shaking with fury. Seishiro watched him storm back down the hall, pull open the door and slam it shut behind him. The crash echoed in the sudden, silent stillness. Seishiro stood resolute, feeling-

"I've been the same person the whole time, Subaru," he told the silence. "You just couldn't see." Contempt rose up from deep inside him, but he remained where he was, breathing and finding comfort in the easy, familiar emotion.

After a minute or so, he returned to his bedroom to retrieve his cigarettes, but paused. The two bottom dresser drawers that Subaru had unpacked were hanging out at odd angles. The closet door was also open, and the few hangers Subaru had been allowed were bare, leaving a gap in the wall of expensive suit jackets, like missing teeth in an otherwise perfect smile. Seishiro narrowed his eyes in disgust and strode across the room. He pulled all of his jackets into place, feeling bizarrely like he was covering up evidence, but evidence of what?! He turned to the drawers and kicked them shut as well. He'd half hoped they'd slam, but he'd gotten a dresser with quiet closers.

Anger began to simmer inside him as he imagined Subaru there, on his knees, shoving clothes haphazardly into his suitcase. Seishiro knew another agreeable wave of contempt, though it just gave way to more bubbling, uncomfortable anger. Subaru had asked for these spaces, had taken them over, then left them desecrated. Seishiro always kept things neat, and Subaru _knew_ that. It was like one last "fuck you."

On another sudden swell of anger, Seishiro remembered the day Subaru had arrived here. It had been a raw, January night, and Seishiro had actually gone to get him from JFK. Subaru had been pleased, but Seishiro just didn't trust him not to get lost. They'd come back to the apartment, and Subaru had looked around eagerly; it was his first time seeing it.

He'd then dragged his suitcase into this room and looked to Seishiro for instructions. He did this a lot when they were together. Tell me what to do, give me direction. Make my choice for me, you know best. Seishiro both loved and hated it.

"Here, I put aside these two for you," he told Subaru, indicating the two bottom drawers in his dresser. Subaru looked touched.

"Thank you," he replied, smiling, still rather pink in the face from the cold.

"There's space in the closet as well," Seishiro continued. "Hang your nice things up so they'll be ready when I take you out." Of course, Subaru's sister had picked out most of his nicer clothes, so they'd have to be replaced. Subaru just nodded, obviously thrilled at the promise. Seishiro smiled. It was all even easier in person, when there wasn't a phone screen and thousands of miles between his words and Subaru's desperate ears.

* * *

Seishiro turned away from the dresser, remembering what happened next with further disdain.

Subaru had placed his suitcase down next to the dresser, but his eyes kept darting back to Seishiro. It seemed he was torn between unpacking, and…

"What's wrong?" Seishiro asked, propping himself up on his hands to look down at Subaru. The warm, rosy light of the bedside table lamp lit up his face beautifully; his pale skin contrasting so sharply with his dark hair and wide green eyes framed by thick black lashes.

"Nothing! I'm sorry!" He cried, wiping his tears away with his fingertips.

"Does it hurt?" Seishiro asked, his eyes narrowing.

"No! You know I love it, it's just…" He swallowed and closed his eyes. More tears slid down the sides of his face into his hair. "It's just a lot right now," he said, his voice shaking slightly. He opened his eyes again and they stared at each other. Subaru's face was so full of pleasure and emotion and Seishiro was waiting for it to subside. He kissed Subaru, and he moaned softly, wrapping his legs more tightly around him.

"Don't cry," Seishiro said, both commanding and encouraging. He didn't like when Subaru cried, especially in situations like this. Subaru nodded, wiping his eyes one last time.

"Keep going."

* * *

Seishiro made a soft, contemptuous noise as he picked up his pack of cigarettes from his bedside table. That had been the reason he'd come in here in the first place, before he'd gotten distracted by unpleasant memories. He returned to his living room and sat down on his couch. He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, trying to refocus. He didn't need to remember all of this yet. He'd remember it later, when Subaru came back, so he could remind him of all he'd walked away from. Of why you don't let people intrude this way, of all the things Seishiro would have to forgive him for.

He leaned back against the couch and heard something small and metallic hit the floor. He looked around, then remembered Subaru had placed his keys there before he left. Seishiro felt his stomach clench painfully as he took another drag from his cigarette. He stood up, walked around behind the couch and picked them up. He stared at them, cold and shiny against his palm. He'd given Subaru these keys after he'd whined and begged for them for weeks. It was one of the earliest issues he could remember them having.

"I don't understand why you need a set of keys if I'm always here to let you in," Seishiro said, dismissively. He had taken Subaru out to dinner at a small, discreet place by Union Square. They sat facing each other, and the light from the candle on their table made Subaru's eyes shine.

"I could have a job that ends in the middle of the night or something, I'd feel bad waking you up." His hands twisted on the table, so delicate and pale.

"You shouldn't take jobs like that," Seishiro said, quietly. Subaru opened his mouth to respond, but Seishiro reached across the table and took his hand, distracting him completely. He smiled at their clasped hands, then nodded.

* * *

Eventually, though, Seishiro had given in. He'd made a copy of his keys especially for Subaru so that he could work, and apparently play, late at night. Then he'd returned them as though it all meant nothing.

Seishiro closed his fist around the keys and took another pull from his cigarette. "I won't need them anymore," Subaru had said.

' _Really?!_ ' Seishiro thought, suddenly, but it wasn't his own voice. It was a completely different voice: a raspy, furious female voice. Seishiro's eyes widened and he tightened his hold on the keys.

"Really?!"

"Yes, really!" Seishiro had thrown the keys and they'd smacked hard against the peeling and stained dining table, then slid away rather sadly. She'd watched them, then looked back up at Seishiro, unflinching and utterly disgusted. "Fuck you, I hope the next time I see you it's when I have to identify your _fucking_ body!" Seishiro had stormed out of her apartment and slammed the door, anger coursing through him like hot poison, searing his nerves and churning his stomach.

* * *

"Ah!" Seishiro had smoked his cigarette so quickly it had burned past the filter and singed his fingers. He dropped the end into the nearest ashtray and sucked on his fingers.

"Oh no, how did you do that?!" She pressed her soft lips against his fingertips. "Come on, cold water." She lifted him up to their kitchen sink, turned on the cold water and shoved his hand underneath it.

"Ow!"

"Stop it, it'll feel better in a second." Seishiro sniffed and rubbed his eyes with his other hand balled into a fist. "How did you do that?" She asked him again.

"Your, your lighter…" He told her in a very small voice. With her free hand, she smacked him sharply on the back of the head.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" She demanded, and Seishiro began to cry harder, even as the cold water was soothing his blistered fingers. "You know not to touch that! STOP CRYING!"

"I'm sorry!"

* * *

Seishiro forced himself back to the present, alone in his apartment because Subaru had… His burned fingers throbbed annoyingly and he strode down the hallway to his kitchen to run them under cold water. His kitchen, decked out in brand new finishes and spotlessly clean. He stared unseeingly at the backsplash behind his sink as the cold water soothed his sore fingers.

Suddenly, a cockroach scurried out from a corner. He didn't have cockroaches, where had it come from?! Dropping the keys onto the kitchen floor, he seized the roll of paper towels off the counter. However, before he could smash the insect, it disappeared. Seishiro stared hard at the wall, breathing deeply, and replaced the paper towels on the counter. He must have imagined it. Imagined it because their apartment always had cockroaches. _Her_ apartment always had cockroaches. He'd probably just seen them in the memory that was suddenly and so grotesquely fresh in his mind.

"Be quiet!"

It was completely disgusting. Although that was before the habit he'd inherited had gummed up her vocal chords with tar, when her voice had been soft and beautiful even as she'd screamed at him.

"There, better?" She'd asked, grudgingly, setting him back on the kitchen floor and drying his hand with a napkin she'd kept from a take out order. Seishiro had nodded, even though his fingers still ached. She'd kissed them and returned to her bedroom, where she'd been before she'd heard him cry out in surprise and pain. Alone in the kitchen, Seishiro sucked on his burned fingers, then rubbed his eyes with his other hand, still balled into a fist.

* * *

Seishiro continued to stare straight ahead at the tiled wall, barely aware of what was going on. At last, he decided his fingers were probably fine and turned off the water. He dried his hand on the dishcloth folded over the handle of the oven door. He hadn't used the oven the entire time he'd lived in this apartment. He'd never really learned to cook, who would have taught him how? She-

Seishiro forced his mind away, but the memories chased him, tried to claw at his back and take hold of him. He tried to resist and redirect his mind, by remembering that Subaru couldn't cook either. All he'd ever made for Seishiro was coffee, which was pointless, considering he could just get coffee from his office.

"Ah!" He gasped softly again and took a step backwards. He'd stepped on the keys he'd dropped a moment ago, and the sharp, serrated edge had dug into the bottom of his foot. He bent down to pick them up. He stared at them for a moment, then, feeling vaguely disgusted, set them on the counter. He looked down at his hand and flexed his fingers. His hands were bigger than Subaru's; a fact that both of them had seemed to take pleasure in.

"You have beautiful hands," Seishiro had told Subaru, one of their first nights together.

"You have his hands," she had told him, one random day when he was in elementary school.

"Let me…?" Subaru had asked, softly, his face flushed and sweaty, bringing Seishiro's fingers up to his parted, eager lips.

"You have his hands," she had said again, swallowing and rubbing her cheek gently against his knuckles. "Be home on time tonight, there's someone coming over I want you to meet."

Seishiro took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and first two fingers. Why was he remembering all this? He hadn't thought about any of it in years, and now the memories were buzzing around inside his skull like bothersome flies. He didn't like this at all. He didn't need to be remembering any of this; it served no purpose. His memories of Subaru weren't even those that allowed him to feel contemptuous, or those he could use to embarrass him or make him feel guilty once he came back. The others, well…

Seishiro straightened up and returned to his living room, both fists clenching and unclenching. He sat down on his couch, then reached for his cigarettes and lit another one, watching the smoldering end burn and smoke curl all around him. His palms were suddenly sweaty and he was breathing rather harder than was necessary. Why though? And now his heart was speeding up too? He took another drag from his cigarette, though it was doing absolutely nothing to calm his nerves. It seemed he'd needed more and more of them to achieve his desired effect these days.

Another wave of bitterness rose up inside him, sick and spiteful. Of course he did! He'd been dealing with Subaru actively fucking up their relationship for how many weeks, now? Seishiro had tried so hard to keep Subaru with him, keep him safe in his arms, but he'd still been lured away. ' _Is it really so surprising, though?_ ' Seishiro thought, on yet another wave of bitter feelings. Subaru was so spacey and all over the place, it only made sense that he could be lured away. ' _Like a cat leaving its owner for someone else just because they feed it,_ ' he thought, disdainfully.

But why though?! Who the fuck was this Kamui?! Just something new and exciting tempting Subaru away from what was clearly better, obviously. It was just like-

His heart beat alarmingly against his ribs again and he took a fierce drag from his cigarette. No, it wasn't like her at all, because she had had nothing good to start with. His father had rejected her outright. Then again…

"Seishiro you know I love you, don't you?"

"Yes, Mother."

"You know I love you more than anyone else in the world, don't you?"

"Yes, Mother."

"And who do _you_ love more than anyone else in the world?"

"You, Mother!"

Seishiro felt his stomach twist nauseatingly. He swallowed, then snubbed out the end of his cigarette in the ashtray on the coffee table. What lies she'd told him. She'd never loved him the most. That had been clear for a very long time. He lay back against the couch, his stomach still lurching and clenching.

His mother, Setsuka, had given birth to him when she was 19, out of wedlock and alone. He'd never met his father. Setsuka almost never talked about him, except to vilify or mourn him. Seishiro had learned quickly not to ask about him, and once he'd grown up his curiosity had evaporated completely. The closest he'd ever gotten to his father were his random phone conversations with Setsuka that had also stopped as he'd grown up. He remembered, suddenly, being four or five, probably around the same time he'd burned his hand with her lighter.

He was in his tiny bedroom at her apartment, his childhood home, run down, cold and dark. He sat on the old, dirty rug beside his bed, playing some pretend game with the only toy he had, a penguin stuffed animal he'd called Blue because of its color. His mother had taken him to the Bronx Zoo on a random swell of maternal instinct and bought it for him for being good. He was talking quietly to Blue about who knows what when he heard his mother's voice, shrill and furious, ring out through the apartment.

"YOU CAN'T DO THAT YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Seishiro froze. "HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO SURVIVE _AND_ RAISE YOUR SON ON THAT?!" A pause, and Seishiro clutched Blue to his chest, gazing terrified out into his living room. His mother laughed sharply, cruel and humorless. "If you didn't want your wife to find out you shouldn't have been fucking me in the first place!" Another pause. "PLEASE! It's not like you can't afford it!" Again, she laughed. "You think I won't take your pathetic self to court?! Fucking _try_ me!" A long silence. Seishiro was shaking all over as he held tight to Blue. He wanted so much to slam his bedroom door shut, but he felt rooted to the spot by fear. At last, his mother spoke again. She'd stopped yelling, thankfully, but the cold contempt and threat in her voice was far scarier. "So you'd force me to work when I could be home raising your son? You're so _fucking_ disgusting. I hope she _does_ find out and she _does_ leave you. I hope you're stuck paying for all three of your kids!" Another pause. "Fine. Okay, fine! Yes! Goodbye!"

Seishiro shuddered as he heard her slam the telephone receiver back down. He waited, clutching Blue, eyes wide and fearful. A thick silence permeated the apartment, and a few minutes passed before, "Seishiro?" Seishiro swallowed, but didn't move. "Seishiro! Come here, please!" Seishiro padded cautiously into the living room, following his mother's voice into the kitchen. She was on the floor, back against the refrigerator and knees hugged up into her chest. Her long, silky black hair fell around her like a funerary veil.

She looked up as he approached, and Seishiro saw that she was crying. This was just as scary as her screaming. He stared at her, wide eyed, at a total loss for what to do. Something in her face shifted, and she began to cry in earnest. Seishiro just watched, terrified, but she pulled him into a tight hug, sandwiching Blue between them. Seishiro stiffened; he was unsure if she'd direct her temper at him or not.

She cried that way for a long time, her narrow shoulders shaking, and Seishiro remained stiff and frightened in her arms. Eventually, she pulled away and looked him in the face, holding tight to his upper arms. "You know I love you, right Seishiro?"

"Yes!" He nodded vigorously, and she gave him a tearful smile.

"Even if I'm not always there to pick you up from school?" Seishiro didn't understand, but nodded anyway. "Your father doesn't think we need as much money anymore," she told him, and his eyes widened fearfully. "He threw us away, and now he doesn't want us to be happy." Now Seishiro wanted to cry too. He still didn't understand, but his mother was crying again, and she sounded so angry, and he hated the person who would make her feel this way. "You're all I have, Seishiro," she told him, cupping the side of his face. "The only good man in the world, and I gave birth to him."

She stood up, then lifted him into her arms. He was still frightened, though she seemed to be calming down. She carried him into her room and they lay down in her bed, curled around each other. He rested his head against her chest, his arms still around Blue, finally feeling safe. She had stopped crying. He could hear her heart beating.

* * *

Seishiro stared straight ahead, a sense of numbness and disconnection upon him. The memories continued to play as though his glasses were a projector screen.

The next day at school, Seishiro's teachers had laughed when he'd asked them how he could get a job and earn money. He wanted to help his mother, though he'd been too young to understand exactly what she'd been talking about. He hadn't yet found out that his father, a married doctor with two children, had begun an affair with a beautiful young nurse's aid at the hospital where they both worked. He hadn't learned that upon finding out she was pregnant, he had promised to leave his wife so they could be together, that he would support and take care of her always.

Unfortunately, that happy transient dream had only lasted a few months before he'd changed his mind. He'd paid what she called child support, though it was with an under the table cashier's check. Periodically, he'd threaten to cut them off or send less money, but he'd never actually go through with it. He couldn't: Setsuka had irrefutable evidence of what had happened and could so easily ruin his life and his marriage with a phone call to a lawyer.

* * *

Seishiro lit another cigarette. The numbness inside him seemed to make him impervious to the effect of the nicotine.

"Your father never wanted us, Seishiro," his mother said, sitting beside him on the couch in their living room. "But I'll always have you, so he'll always have me."

* * *

Seishiro's stomach twisted uncomfortably through his numbness. She didn't have him anymore. He had escaped; he'd gotten out and away from her. However, he still felt disgusted remembering the things Setsuka had said to him. "I love you" was her mantra, and she had repeated it constantly. He'd believed her at first. What choice did he have?

His mother had come to pick him up from school the day he'd asked his teacher about getting a job. "Did you do well today?" She asked. His teacher smiled.

"He's already asking about getting jobs and earning money," she replied, her smile widening as she looked down at him. "He'll be a good provider for his wife someday, he's so enterprising!" She'd obviously intended it as high praise. Seishiro had certainly taken it that way, though he was thinking about his mother rather than some future wife. He'd help her. He'd protect her.

His mother took his hand and led him back home, not saying anything except, "Watch the cars!" Their old and grimy building was on Clinton Street between Houston and Stanton, a block that got very scary at night. Their apartment was on the third floor, and their neighbors all spoke vociferously and aggressively in languages neither of them understood.

They climbed the stairs (their building had no elevator) and reentered their apartment. His mother slammed the door before jerking Seishiro to the floor. "What the _fuck_ do you think you're doing, asking your teachers this shit?!" She demanded, flushed and furious. "Do you _want_ them to know your father doesn't love us?!" Seishiro scrambled to his feet and tried to run away, but she caught him by the hair, pulled him around and slapped him hard across the face. He burst into tears and screamed, so scared he could barely breathe, the side of his face stinging. "Are you ashamed of me?!" She demanded, raising her hand again.

"No!" He cried. Her next slap echoed through his body and he fell over onto the floor, curling up instinctively to protect himself. However, she didn't approach him again. She turned away and stormed into her bedroom. Seishiro winced as the door slammed, shaking with his tears. He waited a few seconds, then got up, ran into his bedroom and shut the door. He jumped into bed, finding Blue tangled up in his blankets and hugged him so tightly his arms hurt.

Cold air leaked into his room from around the window above his bed. He shivered and got under his blankets. He must have cried himself to sleep, because the next thing he knew, the sun was setting and his room was dark and shadowy. He wanted to turn on a light, but he was afraid to get up. His stomach had also started to growl, and he wondered if his mother would even bother providing dinner. He'd gone to bed hungry more than once.

However, a few minutes later, his mother opened his door without knocking, and he sat bolt upright. Fortunately, all she said was, "I'm making dinner, come eat." She then turned away, leaving the door open.

* * *

A strange shiver ran through Seishiro's body, breaking through his numbness. For a moment, it was as though he really were that small boy, cold and hungry and- Seishiro swallowed and stood up, trying to get his wits about him. He didn't _ever_ think about this. He'd always been able to suppress these hated memories, but now he was flooding, and he couldn't get his mind to stem the flow. Was it just because of all that had happened with Subaru? Had it really triggered all these unpleasant memories and bitter feelings? It was rather pathetic, but it enabled Seishiro to blame Subaru. Anger rose up inside him, hot and uncomfortable, but righteous and validating. After all, Subaru used to ask him about his family and how he'd grown up all the time, even when Seishiro made it clear he shouldn't.

"Why are you so curious?" Seishiro had asked him. They were lying in bed in one of his hotel rooms in Tokyo. He was smoking, sitting up against the headboard at his ease, and Subaru was lying curled up next to him, watching him with wide eyes.

"I don't know," he said, going slightly pink. "I'm just interested, is all." Seishiro's lip curled.

"It's not that interesting." Subaru sat up and leaned his shoulder against the headboard.

"I, I like you a lot, Seishiro," he said, quietly, his blush deepening. "I don't mean to pry, I just-" Seishiro interrupted him with a kiss, making him gasp softly. He pulled away and stared hard at Subaru, who stared back, looking both eager and unsure.

"My mother died when I was twenty two," he said, and Subaru covered his mouth with his hand. "I never knew the rest of my family, so really, there isn't much else to say." Subaru's eyes widened still further.

"I'm so sorry…" He said, and he obviously meant it. Seishiro considered him thoughtfully for a moment, then put out his cigarette and reached forward to cup the side of his face. Subaru was so devoted even though they'd had barely any time together and most of it was fucking. He was so giving, so genuine, so unlike anyone he'd ever been involved with before.

He kissed Subaru, who kissed him back enthusiastically and even more passionately than usual. Seishiro couldn't help but feel affected. He lay Subaru down again and fucked him greedily, then rolled off of him to recover. Subaru lay beside him, gasping and shivering, before bending over Seishiro and whispering in his ear, "You don't have to be alone, you can have me."

* * *

Seishiro's fists clenched again and he rolled his eyes. At the time, he'd wondered if Subaru was just getting off on playing the "sticking by someone even though they're obviously fucked up" role, but he'd let go of that fairly quickly. At that point in their relationship, all of Subaru's words were genuine, even if all of Seishiro's weren't: as far as he knew, Setsuka was still alive. He had lied to Subaru, it was true, but it was for a good reason. The lie kept things simple and made Subaru all the more devoted to him.

This attachment might have alarmed Seishiro, but Subaru wasn't like others. He was all for Seishiro in every respect, and he had done it gladly and of his own will. It was ideal: Seishiro could give him a few words, or kiss him a little longer, and he'd give him _way_ more back. It had all worked out so well, until Subaru had started spending time with Kamui. It suddenly occurred to Seishiro that Kamui could easily have done the same thing. Had he also lured Subaru away with performed loneliness and a tragic past?

Seishiro's stomach clenched. It was pathetic. Setsuka had been the same way with all the worthless men she'd brought into their house. He felt another wave of disgust, and this time it rose up in his throat. He pressed his first two fingers against his lips and breathed deeply through his nose. He didn't want to think about this. He didn't _need_ to think about this, why wasn't his mind cooperating? Why was his body betraying him? He felt an unpleasant prickle creep up his spine. His body had always betrayed him, even from the time he was small, just as Setsuka had predicted it would.

"Mother?" Seishiro asked cautiously, standing in his bedroom doorway and holding tight to one of Blue's wings. He was supposed to be in bed, but he couldn't sleep. His mother was sitting on the couch, smoking and wearing an odd expression on her face as she stared at their TV. "Mother?" She looked around.

"What, Seishiro?" He shifted awkwardly between his feet.

"I can't sleep." Setsuka sighed, put out her cigarette and patted the space next to her on the couch. Seishiro's heart skipped and he ran over to sit beside her. The news was on, and it showed an overcrowded hospital ward. Doctors suited up in gloves and masks were walking back and forth between the rows of beds with nurses in toe.

"The AIDS ward at St. Vincent's Hospital is the largest on the East Coast," a reporter's voice was saying over the footage. "After public health officials and gay rights activists have spent years-"

"It's horrifying," his mother said, looking down her nose at the TV screen. Seishiro looked between her and the television, squeezing Blue's wing with his hand.

"Those people are all sick?" Seishiro asked. His mother nodded. "Will they all die?"

"Yes," she replied. Seishiro's eyes widened.

"No one can help?" He asked, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"They're trying, but I doubt it'll make a difference," she said, coldly. She paused for a moment, still staring at the TV. Seishiro watched one of the doctors bend over a patient hooked up to a respirator, his face and chest covered in dark purple blotches. "You need a man around," his mother muttered, just loud enough for Seishiro to hear. "So you don't turn out like this."

* * *

Seishiro let out a bitter, entirely joyless laugh. Setsuka had been worried about him ending up not only gay, but her worst idea of what that meant fueled by the media of the time, and her idea of a preventative measure had been to bring all of those worthless boyfriends around.

Now that really was fucking funny.

Not that he blamed her for his sexual orientation. Indeed, it was one of the few things he _didn't_ blame her for. Truthfully, if he could have switched off his sexual urges and desires for _all_ other people, he would have done it in an instant. Then, he'd never have gotten involved with anyone and he wouldn't end up in situations like this.

Anger flared suddenly inside him and he let it burn away all those other, unpleasant sensations. Yes, this was what had started _all_ of this. Subaru had left, and it made Seishiro angry, even though he knew he'd be back. He'd be back, full of apologies, begging for forgiveness. ' _As he should,_ ' Seishiro thought, viciously.

He took his fingers away from his mouth. He seemed to be feeling calmer, or at least more in control of himself. He stretched, wondering what he should do next. It was obviously too late to go into work, but he could at least get something done remotely. He'd taken the day off because he knew Subaru would be back and wanted to be here for it. He hadn't told his coworkers this, obviously, but he didn't really need to give them a reason. No one ever questioned him at work. They, unlike Subaru, knew better.

Seishiro made a soft, contemptuous noise in his throat, sat down on his couch again and pulled his laptop towards him. Even though he was stuck working from home because of his boyfriend acting ridiculous, it made Seishiro feel better to open his e-mail, to type a reply, to think about the very important phone calls he'd need to make in the next few days. Work had always been where he was happiest, or at least where he was most comfortable. He was smart, he was good at his job and people respected him for these things.

"He's so enterprising!"

Seishiro narrowed his eyes at the computer screen. ' _Yes, I fucking am_ ,' he thought, the sound of his typing echoing in the silence.

Setsuka would have done well to encourage him in that. Not that he'd ever needed her encouragement, but considering how well off he was now compared to how he'd grown up… He might have even helped her out occasionally if she'd asked. Or maybe not; she had made her bed, trying to depend on all those worthless men, let her lie in it. That was what she was best at, anyway.

Seishiro remembered the first time he'd met one of his mother's boyfriends. It was the August after he'd finished second grade, and she had stuck him in a summer program at his elementary school because she worked during the day. Seishiro hated it. It was like being in school year round except every class was gym. His teachers would try and encourage him to join in and play, but he didn't like interacting with his classmates. They were loud and rough and couldn't say his name properly.

Seishiro had gotten used to being alone by now, anyway. Just as she'd said she might, his mother had stopped coming to pick him up from school or his summer program, leaving him to get back to their empty apartment on his own. He didn't mind though, and he liked having his very own set of keys. It all made him feel very grown up. However, she never told him exactly where she would be or when she'd be back.

A few months ago, she'd been gone past dinnertime, and it had really scared Seishiro. He'd seen on the news about people going missing, about what terrible things could happen, especially to young women like his mother. He knew how to call 911, but would they even believe him? Would they care? He'd stayed up waiting for her in his living room with the news on as she always did at night, cuddled around Blue with a blanket draped over both of them. He'd tried to sleep, but gotten nowhere. At last, he heard the scrape of her key in the lock and cried out in relief. She entered the apartment and spotted him at once. "Why aren't you in bed?!" She demanded, her voice rising. Seishiro stared back at her, wide eyed and terrified. "It's nearly midnight, what the _fuck_ is wrong with you?!"

"I didn't know where you were! I'm sorry!" In answer, she grabbed him by the upper arm, pulled him off the couch, threw him into his bedroom and slammed the door.

After that, Seishiro would still wait up for her, but in his own bed, listening with all his might. He'd hear her open the front door, slam it shut and bolt the locks, and would know a deep, sweet relief. She'd always approach his room, then open his door and peer inside. Seishiro's heart would slam against his ribs as he'd pretend to be asleep. He knew he'd be in trouble if she found him awake. She never did, though. She'd leave his door open and retreat, and the sounds of her clattering about and getting ready for bed would lull him to sleep.

On this day, however, she was there right on time to pick him up, and he'd run towards her eagerly. She had a strange expression on her face, and for a moment he was worried, but she smiled and hugged him. "I'm sorry I've been away so much," she said, taking his hand and leading him back to their apartment.

"It's okay," he replied, slowly.

"I've been seeing this nice man," she told him, looking both ways surreptitiously before pulling him across the street. Seishiro's eyes narrowed.

"Who?"

"Someone I met at work." Seishiro already didn't like this. He wanted to question more, but kept his mouth shut.

"Is he your boyfriend?" He asked, a note of challenge in his voice. He thought he might be pushing it, but she laughed.

"Maybe so!" A moment's silence passed. "He's back home waiting for us."

"What?!" His mother turned sharply around and gave him a warning look.

"Yes, and this is important, so be on your best behavior!" Seishiro glared back at her, but nodded. They made their way home in silence, Seishiro holding tight to his mother's hand as his stomach twisted uncomfortably. They climbed the stairs and entered their apartment. Sure enough, there was a man Seishiro didn't know sitting on their couch.

"Hey," he said, standing up. Seishiro held his mother's hand all the more tightly. "I'm-" but it didn't matter. Seishiro couldn't remember any of their names. He didn't really need to. They were all basically the same person: some totally undeserving unimportant guy, good looking in the exact same vacant, conventional way. They reminded Seishiro of the stupid looking male models on fashion billboards. Their first words would usually be some iteration of "I don't usually date girls with kids already, but…" Apparently Setsuka had such power that they'd overlook this minor detail.

"Say hi, Seishiro, don't be rude!" His mother said, rather impatiently.

"Hello," he told her boyfriend, coldly. "I have summer reading to do." He strode into his bedroom and shut the door. It was a lie; he'd finished his summer reading months ago, but he doubted his mother knew this.

"He takes his schoolwork very seriously," he heard her tell her boyfriend hastily.

Seishiro's heart was beating rather fast and he was breathing hard through his nose. He didn't like this at all. Some random new person thought he could just walk in his house and take his mother away? Make her leave him up all night and terrified?

Seishiro threw his backpack onto his bed then climbed up himself. He could hear his mother outside, talking to her boyfriend in a high-pitched voice that sounded nothing like her. Anger rippled through him and he reached into his bag for the library book he'd started reading that day. His classmates made fun of him for how much he read, both in school and in his summer program. He didn't let it bother him, though. It wasn't his fault his classmates weren't as smart as him.

Seishiro could hear his mother making dinner, which she almost never did, and felt another ripple of anger. He tried his best to keep reading, to concentrate on his book rather than his mother's constant gnawing chatter and her boyfriend's inarticulate grunting. Eventually, he heard her approach his room, and she opened the door without knocking. She'd been doing this as long as he could remember, but recently it had been really starting to annoy him.

"Dinner's ready!" She told him, her voice happy and singsong. Seishiro looked up at her with raised eyebrows. It was nice to see her in such a good mood, but it was all rather strange and hard to believe.

"I'm reading," he told her. Her eyes narrowed.

"We have company, come eat," she said.

"I'll be there in a minute," he countered. His mother actually entered the room and shut the door. Seishiro stared determinedly back at her.

"You will do as you're told. Come eat." Seishiro remained still, though his heart began to speed up.

"No," he told her. She took a step towards him.

"Seishiro," she said, all warmth and happiness in her voice gone. He said nothing, and they stared at each other a moment longer before she lunged forward and knocked his book out of his hands and onto the floor. "Be outside in five minutes or you will _live_ to regret it, I fucking promise you." Seishiro looked down at his book, lying spine up and open on the floor.

"Fine," he said, resentfully. She rolled her eyes, but said nothing else. She turned and left, slamming the door behind her. Seishiro flushed in anger. She only ever closed the door when she slammed it in temper. He heard her tell her boyfriend,

"Sorry, my son-" but the blood pounding in Seishiro's ears drowned out the rest of her words. He hated when she referred to him that way, as though he didn't have a name. She'd also always call him "my son" when she was angry with him or when she was speaking about him to one of her boyfriends.

Seishiro picked up his book, fixed all of the pages and put it on his bedside table. He then returned to the living room with a deep sense of ill usage upon him. His mother's boyfriend was sitting at the head of their dining table as though he belonged there. They didn't have a real dining room; one room served as their living room and kitchen, but his mother always called the plastic table in front of the counter "the dining table."

Seishiro gave her boyfriend a thoroughly mistrustful look and took the seat opposite him. He didn't look at Seishiro; he seemed too preoccupied staring at his mother as she served them dinner. She sat down and looked proudly back and forth between them. Her boyfriend had a look of vague satisfaction on his face, as though this scenario, in some abstract sense, was desirable. Seishiro glared at his plate and pushed his food around with his fork.

"So, uh," her boyfriend began, and Seishiro refrained from rolling his eyes with extreme difficulty. "What grade are you in, Seishiro?" Seishiro's heart sped up sharply as it always did when someone mispronounced his name, and he didn't reply.

"You're going into third, right?" His mother said, trying her best to sound encouraging.

"Yes," Seishiro replied, grudgingly.

"Why are you so shy today?" She persisted, rather aggressively.

"I'm not," he snapped back. It was true. He wasn't shy, he just didn't like this person and he didn't want to talk to him.

"It's uh, it's cool," her boyfriend said, in what he must have imagined was a take control, reassuring way. "What's your favorite subject?" He tried next.

"Math."

"Oh yeah? That's cool. I suck at math, it makes no sense to me." His mother let out a false, high-pitched laugh that _so_ grated on Seishiro's nerves.

"You're just not smart like me," Seishiro told him, coldly. He was still looking down at his plate, but his eyes darted to his mother. His heart sped up fearfully as he wondered if he'd crossed a line. Her eyes widened, and a moment's awkward silence passed, then she and her boyfriend started to laugh.

"Seishiro!" She exclaimed, sounding more bemused than angry. Seishiro looked up at her, and her expression was soft and gentle. He so rarely saw her look this way, and he held her gaze a second longer before looking away again. It was nice to see her genuinely affectionate for once, but he had no idea why they were both laughing. He hadn't been joking at all; this man was so obviously not as smart as Seishiro it was ridiculous.

"You're too blunt, just like your mom," her boyfriend told him.

"What?!" She demanded, and they both laughed. Seishiro finished his dinner in silence while their conversation continued around him. At last, it was over, and he hurried back to his room. He shut the door and leaned against it, listening. He wanted his mother's boyfriend to leave, but from the way they were talking it seemed he'd be hanging around. Seishiro sighed, feeling suddenly lonely.

His bedroom was dark because he hadn't turned on the overhead light. The window on the opposite wall faced an airshaft, so it let in hardly any light after the sun sank too low in the sky. However, it did let in lots of noise, even when shut. He'd hear people yelling at each other in garbled mixes of several languages, music blaring and sometimes, even gunshots.

He sighed again, listening to his mother talking to her boyfriend through the closed door. "Yes, did you want a drink?" She asked, her voice falsely high-pitched again.

"Yeah sure, thanks, babe." Seishiro rolled his eyes. Now his mother and her boyfriend were alone his voice had become less formal, less polite, though still obviously devoid of anything intelligent. Seishiro didn't want him in their house. He didn't want him around his mother. He wanted to make him leave, but he didn't want to go back out there.

Someone turned on the TV to what sounded like the news. Seishiro hardly ever understood what anyone on the screen was talking about, but it was the only thing his mother ever had on. Maybe, though, he could just go sit and watch, just visible enough to discompose her boyfriend without actually having to participate…

With one last, resigned sigh, Seishiro went back into the living room. He found his mother curled up next to her boyfriend on the couch. He had his arm around her, a beer in his other hand and his legs spread ostentatiously as though he were intentionally taking up as much space as possible. Seishiro eyed him with ever growing dislike and waited to be noticed. The news seemed to be running a story on Tompkins Square Park. A reporter's voice was saying, "Police battled the homeless and their supporters for nearly four hours last night in what is being called a full-scale police riot. Police officers, protestors as well as innocent passers by were injured after the police attempted to force a curfew-"

"What are you doing out here, Seishiro?" His mother asked, finally realizing he was there.

"Can I come sit with you?" He asked. She looked at her boyfriend, who just shrugged. Seishiro sat down on the end of the couch nearest him, forcing him to shift over and close his legs. On the TV, an old man who Seishiro knew to be the Mayor was gesticulating rather stupidly, apparently making a speech.

"We can't let ourselves be intimidated or give into the demands of these people," he said, with obvious distaste.

"Seriously," his mother's boyfriend agreed. Seishiro didn't understand, but he hated his tone. Who was he, trying to sound as though he knew better? "I used to want to be a cop when I was a kid," he told Seishiro's mother, and she smiled indulgently. "Or a firefighter," he added, stupidly, and she laughed. "Um, what do you want to be when you grow up, Seishiro?" He asked, bravely. Seishiro looked at him coldly, debating his answer.

"I don't know," he said. "Maybe a doctor." Her boyfriend nodded appreciatively, and Seishiro felt a ripple of anger. "Yeah, so I can cut people open." His mother and her boyfriend exchanged a look, seemingly unsure if they should laugh or not, and it gave Seishiro a deep satisfaction. He had no desire what so ever to become a doctor, but that answer always got a rise out of people, even if he said it as a throwaway statement.

"So like, a surgeon?" Her boyfriend asked. Seishiro shrugged.

"A surgeon, or someone who cuts open dead bodies like on TV." Her boyfriend just nodded, his expression tightening, and his mother looked back and forth between the television and Seishiro's face, horrified. He just smiled. "Those people are called _medical examiners_."

"Go take a bath and get ready for bed, Seishiro," his mother interjected, sharply.

"You said I could sit here with you!" He reminded her, crossly.

"I don't care, it's nearly past your bedtime anyway, go!" Dire warning had entered her voice, and Seishiro knew not to push it. He hopped off the couch, retrieved pajamas from his room and walked resolutely down the tiny hallway to their bathroom, full of rust and cracked tiles. "I'm so sorry, I don't know what the fuck has gotten into him!" He heard his mother cry.

"It's cool," her boyfriend replied.

However, it apparently wasn't cool, because by the time Seishiro had finished his bath, her boyfriend was gone. Seishiro walked back down the hall, his hair damp and skin flushed, to find his mother still on the couch, smoking. He eyed the back of her head cautiously as he approached his bedroom. "Seishiro, come here please." Seishiro's heart sped up. He wondered if he was about to be punished as he walked over and sat next to her. "You didn't like him, did you?" His mother asked. Seishiro shrugged, still unsure if he was in trouble or not. "It's okay if you didn't," she continued, putting out her cigarette, and Seishiro felt an enormous relief. "He's not going to work out." Seishiro said nothing. "At least I told him. It was my choice," she said, as though trying to talk herself into something. However, her eyes suddenly flashed as she whirled around to look at Seishiro. "What kind of answer was that?!" She demanded, and Seishiro scrambled away from her. Fortunately, she didn't raise her hand.

"I don't know!" He cried, his heart hammering, but she just sighed.

"I suppose it's to be expected. He was a surgeon too." Seishiro didn't understand, but she no longer sounded angry. She ran her fingers through her long, silky hair. "You need to be nicer to these men, Seishiro," she told him, firmly. "I want you to have a father." Seishiro remembered again that news report from before, of the young man covered in purple blotches, and nodded grudgingly.

"Okay." She sighed.

"Come sleep in my bed tonight," she said. Seishiro nodded, this time feeling pleased. He'd have her all to himself for the rest of the night. No one else would intrude or interrupt. "Let's go." He ran into his room to get Blue, who he still slept with every night, then hurried to his mother's room and jumped in her bed. Once again, he fell asleep listening to her heartbeat.

* * *

A sudden ping of an e-mail notification startled Seishiro, forcing him back to the present. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and first two fingers.

In retrospect, he had to give Setsuka credit for recognizing that boyfriend would never work and ending it herself, rather than waiting for him to just stop calling, or disappear, or get arrested. However, he couldn't feel proud of her, considering she made the same mistake over and over again. Seishiro shuddered slightly as he put his glasses back on.

He'd be lying if he said he weren't at least partially to blame for his mother's relationships failing. If he really didn't like someone, and he really didn't like most of them, it was easy enough to get rid of them. In spite of himself, Seishiro felt a sudden rush of spiteful pleasure about how he'd done the first one. All it had taken was a lie about wanting to cut people open, how utterly fucking pathetic was that? Although, he supposed the creepy murderous child cliché was enjoying a great vogue at the time, even if it never actually happened in real life.

Seishiro rolled his eyes. That was what that man got for trying to invade his house, for intruding on himself and Setsuka. These men had all felt like enemy forces, and Seishiro had been the brave defending army, protecting his castle. Sometimes his weapon was acting out, though that was rare; temper tantrums had never been his thing. His favorite tactic was to withdraw, to be totally unresponsive to both his mother and whichever boyfriend it was. That always got a rise out of them as they fought for his attention, for his words. Still other times, it would happen completely by accident.

He remembered one time in particular when he'd woken up in the middle of the night, his throat burning so badly swallowing brought tears to his eyes. He'd staggered down the hall to his mother's room, feverish and sweaty. Her door had been closed, but he'd opened it anyway.

"SEISHIRO!" His mother had screamed, diving under her covers. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?" Seishiro began to cry in earnest, the noise of her screams echoing in his sore head. "Oh for god's sake, what's wrong?!" He just cried harder than ever, totally helpless against the sickness raging inside him. "Sorry," his mother told whichever boyfriend it was. He'd hung around for a while, at a total loss for what to do, before finally going home.

Even in his feverish, miserable state, Seishiro was very pleased to have his mother all to himself again. It was even better because he was actually sick: she was gentle and loving rather than furious at him for driving another man away.

The next morning, Setsuka had taken Seishiro to the doctor. She was angry she'd have to take the morning off work, but pleased that this job at least gave her health insurance. The doctor had poked and prodded Seishiro, then taken a throat culture than made him gag and cry out in pain. While Seishiro and his mother were waiting in the empty office for results, he had half-heartedly tried to read the new library book he'd brought with him, though he could barely focus on the words, everything hurt so much. The doctor returned to the room, clipboard in hand, and immediately noticed Seishiro reading. "Do you always read with books so close to your face, Seishiro?" He asked, kindly. Seishiro looked up, then nodded.

"I have to or it's blurry," he said, his throat burning and tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. His mother had looked fearfully between him and the doctor.

"He needs glasses?" She asked.

"I'm not an optometrist," the doctor said, his tone still kind. "So I can't say for sure, but once he's feeling better I'd take him to get his eyes tested. I can give you a name." Setsuka nodded, looking suddenly sad. "To that end, yes, it's definitely strep," the doctor continued. They talked for a few minutes about it before he gave her a prescription for antibiotics and the name of a local optometrist.

Later that day, Seishiro was in bed, covered in extra blankets and feeling nauseated from his medicine on top of everything else. His mother sat on the edge of his bed, staring at him with the same sad expression. "How long have you had trouble seeing?" She asked, and Seishiro knew if he weren't sick, she'd have been screaming.

"I don't know," he replied, weakly, hugging Blue more closely to him. His mother just sighed and ran her fingers through her hair.

"I shouldn't be surprised, I guess," she said, quietly. "He wore glasses too." She stood up, but paused. "You still sleep with your penguin?" She asked. Seishiro nodded. "The penguin I bought for you?" Again, Seishiro nodded, and she actually smiled. "Good." She kissed him on the forehead and left the room.

* * *

Seishiro put his glasses back on, and his apartment came back into focus: dark, sterile and empty. Empty because Subaru had left. Subaru had always liked Seishiro's glasses, and he'd always try to play with them for some reason.

"Don't."

"What?" Subaru's eyes widened and he held Seishiro's glasses to his chest.

"Give them to me," Seishiro snapped. Subaru looked suddenly fearful and handed them over at once.

"I'm sorry!" He cried, but all Seishiro said was,

"Don't touch my glasses." Subaru nodded, still looking fearful.

* * *

' _Good_ ,' Seishiro thought. Subaru used to do things like that all the time, small things that would _so_ irritate Seishiro. He'd never let them get under his skin or make him really angry, of course, but he shouldn't have had to tell him in the first place. Subaru should have known, but then again, how could he? Subaru was so all over the place, or up in his head, he always needed someone to guide him and show him the way. Seishiro had tried as hard as he could, only to have it all thrown back in his face.

Truthfully, he had been concerned for longer than he'd like to admit. He had started to, not panic, but worry, when Subaru was no longer fazed by his words or his pulling away. It had been easy when they were first together. The pattern was simple: Subaru would inevitably do something Seishiro didn't like, even something small, and all he had to do was withdraw.

Very suddenly, he remembered one night in particular, six weeks or so after Subaru had come here. They'd been out having dinner in midtown, at another small, discreet place. He and Subaru were sitting at a corner table, looking at each other but not speaking. They'd started having trouble not too long ago, and Seishiro found the best way to pacify Subaru was dinner somewhere nice and sex. However, he was taking time out of his schedule for this, so Subaru would do well to make an effort and be grateful. The CTO at Seishiro's company had taken on a whole new massive project with their Tokyo office, which meant more work for everyone, not to mention a party to celebrate. If Seishiro had had his way, he'd have been home working, but… Subaru being unhappy didn't do him any favors.

Their server approached them, and he was young, energetic and very good-looking. He greeted them as he would any table, but Seishiro noticed his eyes darting to Subaru more often than was necessary, given that all he was doing was taking drink orders. Subaru seemed to encourage it, and they had an entire conversation about one specific cocktail. Seishiro just watched, displeasure simmering inside him. Subaru laughed at something their server said, throwing his head back as he did so. Finally he retreated, and Subaru watched him go, still smiling, before returning his gaze to Seishiro. His smile vanished. "What's wrong?" He asked, softly, and Seishiro's lip curled.

"Nothing," he replied, delicately. Subaru tried to reach for his hand, but he took it off the table.

"Seishiro…" Subaru said, obviously hurt.

"Decide what you want," Seishiro told him. Subaru just nodded and looked away. When their server came back, he seemed taken aback by Subaru's sudden change in demeanor, and this only irritated Seishiro further. "Nothing's wrong, right, Subaru?" He asked, once they were alone at their table again. Subaru looked more confused than ever.

"I-"

"You're fine. You don't want people to look at us strangely, do you?" Subaru's eyes widened, and he shook his head.

The rest of the night, Subaru became overly talkative every time they were alone. He was trying to make the rest of the night good and make up for his earlier lapse. Seishiro would just nod or answer in one word or a clipped phrase. He knew Subaru hated it and was getting more fearful by the second. On some level, Seishiro hated it too. He wished Subaru would just be quiet, but that seemed impossible now.

At last, dinner was over, and they were back on the 1 train downtown. They didn't speak until they were back up in their apartment. It was late, but Seishiro sat down on the couch and pulled his laptop towards him, intending to do all the work he'd neglected while taking Subaru to dinner. "Seishiro?" Subaru hesitated for a moment, then sat down beside him.

"What?" Subaru looked away, and Seishiro watched him out of the corner of his eye. His expression was sadder than ever, and it was both gratifying and infuriating.

"Are you angry with me?" Seishiro managed not to roll his eyes, but it was a close thing.

"No," he replied, patiently, typing something. The clicking of the keys seemed magnified in the rapidly thickening silence.

"But-" As usual, Subaru was totally unprepared to take his word for it. "What happened at dinner?" He continued, forging bravely ahead.

"You tell me," Seishiro replied, coldly, pausing in his typing to reach for his cigarettes. "You know not to let people interfere or intrude." He lit up and took a deep pull from his cigarette, then finally turned to look Subaru in the face. He seemed totally at a loss.

"I'm sorry," he said, his eyes wide. "I wasn't trying anything, I swear!" Seishiro exhaled smoke and returned his gaze to his laptop. Subaru sighed heavily and Seishiro's gaze immediately snapped back to him.

"Are you intentionally stressing me out?" He asked, raising his eyebrows.

"No! I just…" Subaru looked away, apparently unable to finish his sentence.

' _You just do stupid things like flirt with our server at dinners I take you to_ ,' Seishiro thought, spitefully, though out loud he said nothing. He returned his gaze to his laptop and silence fell between them again. Out of the corner of his eye, Seishiro watched Subaru staring down at his hands, folded neatly in his lap. After a few minutes, he stood up. "Where are you going?" Seishiro asked, putting out his cigarette in the ashtray on the coffee table.

"Out for more cigarettes." Seishiro thought this unlikely, considering no stores in this area would be open at this hour. However, if it would keep Subaru occupied for a bit, fine. He watched him put on his coat, grab his keys and leave the apartment, just as he had done that very morning. That night, of course, Subaru had come back, just as Seishiro had known he would, just as he knew he would today as well. Seishiro had waited, responding to e-mails about the trip he'd need to take to his job's Tokyo office. "I'm home," Subaru called cautiously from the doorway an hour or so later. Seishiro listened to him walk down the hall, but remained silent a few seconds longer, finishing the sentence he was typing.

"Welcome back," he said, finally, without turning around. "Did you get what you wanted?"

"Nowhere was open."

"Ah." Neither of them spoke for a moment. Seishiro continued to type, debating his course of action. He was sorely tempted to remain withdrawn and continue to ignore Subaru. However, with all the work he'd have to do, not to mention the party they'd have to attend together next week, he didn't think he could stand Subaru being that needy. "Go draw a bath," he said, finally, coming to his decision. "I'll be there soon." Subaru hesitated, then scurried through their bedroom into the en suite.

Seishiro sighed heavily. He hadn't been hurt by this at all; he got what he needed when they were still at the restaurant, when Subaru had realized he'd done wrong. However, Subaru had kept pushing, and now Seishiro had to pacify him. All because of a server at a restaurant Seishiro hadn't even wanted to go to in the first place. He sighed again as he closed his laptop and put it back on the coffee table. He stood up, then walked slowly through his bedroom, thinking irritably that fights like this, if you could even call them fights, were becoming more and more frequent. Still though, at least he could end them easily by withdrawing his touch, then saying the right things as he gave it back. As long as he had that, it wasn't too bad.

Seishiro opened the bathroom door. Through the steamed up glass shower walls, he saw Subaru pause in the act of scrubbing himself clean. Seishiro undressed, pulled the shower door open and stepped inside, right up behind Subaru, who stiffened. "You're not upset with me, are you, Subaru?" Seishiro asked, quietly, before wrapping his arms around his waist and resting his chin on his shoulder. Subaru swallowed, but Seishiro felt him relax very slightly. "You know I hate when you're angry with me."

"I'm not." Seishiro held Subaru more tightly, reminding him of what he could lose.

"I'm glad," he breathed, right in his ear. "I don't even know what that was all about, that's what hurts the most."

"I'm sorry!" Subaru cried.

' _You should be,_ ' thought Seishiro. Subaru tried to turn around and face him but Seishiro held him firmly in place. Out loud, he said, "I know." It was true, after all. Subaru was always sorry for all the issues he created. Of course, it would be best if he just learned how to prevent them, but Seishiro would take what he could get in the mean time. "Go get in the bath." He let go of Subaru, and he got out of the shower, eyes averted and face flushed. Seishiro felt a surge of satisfaction and decided to take it further, both to reward and reclaim Subaru.

Seishiro scrubbed himself clean, knowing a surge of anticipation and feeling much better all of a sudden. He rinsed off, shut off the water and slid into the tub on top of Subaru. At last, he looked him in the face. "I love you," Seishiro reminded him quietly, feeling his heart speed up in spite of himself.

"I love you too," Subaru replied. Seishiro smiled down at him.

"I know." It was true. Subaru said it all the time, and when his actions didn't line up with the words, he was apologetic and remorseful, as he should be.

* * *

' _Unlike Setsuka,_ ' Seishiro thought, bitterly, before his mind was back on Subaru, underneath him in the hot water, soft and fearful and beautiful.

Seishiro kissed him, and he responded enthusiastically, wrapping his arms around his neck. He was always this way after arguments: even more unselfish and giving than usual.

They got out of the bath, dried off and got in bed to continue. "I'm yours, Seishiro, no one else's," Subaru told him in a soft moan, his eyes shining with meaning.

"I know," Seishiro breathed, thrusting deep inside him. Subaru threw his head back, his expression exultant. Seishiro definitely loved this: Subaru giving him everything and relishing every second of it.

Seishiro pulled out, ripped off the condom he was wearing and made himself come all over Subaru's erection. Subaru moaned softly in appreciation and smiled up at him. Seishiro moved away to sit up against the headboard, breathing deeply. "Come for me, Subaru," he said. Subaru flushed, but nodded. Seishiro watched him obey with a deeply satisfied smile on his face. He could do whatever he wanted to Subaru, and he'd always call it "making love."

"Seishiro!" He moaned softly as he came all over his belly. He lay back, eyes closed and gasping for a moment, and Seishiro gave him a soft kiss on the lips.

"Clean up and bring me my cigarettes."

"O-okay…"

They fell asleep next to each other that night, and Seishiro spooned him for good measure. After all, he'd be lying if he said it didn't feel good for him too.

* * *

A sudden wave of bitterness rose up inside Seishiro and his chest and throat constricted painfully. What was this…? He remembered suddenly, _viscerally_ , how it felt to hold Subaru close, to kiss him, to be deep inside him… That had been the basis of their relationship at first, before they'd agreed to add feelings, to "make it official." Another wave of bitterness. That had been Subaru's idea too.

"I'm yours, Seishiro, if you'll have me," he'd said, and Seishiro had smiled, his heart unexpectedly light.

"You're mine, then."

* * *

Now, his heart was throbbing as more righteous anger swelled inside him, burning away the bitter feelings. Their decision to call what they were doing a relationship had made sense: Seishiro hadn't been fucking anyone else and Subaru was so willing, but still… Subaru had asked for his commitment only to throw it back in his face when someone new came along.

Anger boiled inside Seishiro. How could Subaru just end it? Why had he stopped fighting for him? Why did he suddenly stop being afraid of losing Seishiro when they both knew he was the best person for him? Seishiro shook his head in utter disbelief and disgust.

Subaru would come back, though. He'd come back all those other times. Even though something had apparently changed, it wouldn't last. Subaru would come back.

Seishiro breathed deeply, taking comfort in these thoughts, and feeling his anger abate very slightly. He'd brought Subaru to New York, according to his wishes, what else could he have wanted? Seishiro sighed heavily, wondering, not for the first time, if things would have been easier if Subaru had just stayed in Tokyo. When they'd been apart, Subaru had been far less demanding and much more understanding.

"I loved the man I met in Tokyo, but he's been gone a long time!"

Seishiro rolled his eyes. Subaru had been the one who had changed. Seishiro had been the same person the whole time, Subaru just hadn't… It didn't matter. Subaru would realize he was wrong in no time. Besides, Seishiro actually _did_ know what it was to see someone change so drastically, so-

A massive, pricking shiver began at the back of Seishiro's neck and radiated out through his whole body. He remembered, again, sudden and terrifying and _visceral_ , a hand, one larger than his mother's, around his throat, hot furious breath on his face and tears- "No!" He said, out loud, taking himself by surprise. Where the fuck had _that_ come from? His heart was pounding in his chest and his hands were clammy as he ran his fingers through his hair. That was exactly why Seishiro never put his hands on people, why his words had to be enough, because losing control of yourself in your anger was shameful!

"You chose to follow me." The sound of Subaru's headphones breaking in half seemed to crack through the air, as though it were happening all over again.

"Yes, really!" The sound of metal smacking against the cheap, plastic dining table at Setsuka's apartment.

Seishiro had lost control both of those times. His emotions had taken him over. His body had betrayed him. Disgust rose sickeningly up in Seishiro's throat and he clapped his hand over his mouth.

"SEISHIRO! NO! PUT HIM DOWN!" Seishiro kicked out. The hand released him and he collapsed onto the floor, gasping for breath and crying.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

Seishiro felt cold sweat on his face. He was trying with all his might to resist the memories, to fight back…

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" The sound of the punch and her scream echoed through the apartment and seemed to rip through Seishiro.

It was no good. His body was betraying him.


	2. 02

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thursday!
> 
> How's everyone doing today, good? I hope so! Today's my birthday, and my gift to you all is this chapter! Um... join the celebration I guess?
> 
> Ugh. So this chapter. Quite frankly I'm thrilled to see the back of it. It was exhausting to get through every time I edited it. It took a lot out of me, but I hope you guys all like it! I know it's long and we spend most of our time in the past, but I promise everything that's there is there for a reason. This is like, the set up a whole bunch of stuff chapter, I guess.
> 
> ANYWAY, let me stop.
> 
> CONTENT WARNING: This chapter contains graphic depictions of both domestic violence and child abuse. You have been warned.

Seishiro slumped against the smooth, cold tile of his bathroom wall, knowing a profound sense of relief in his whole body. He stayed there a moment, gasping and wiping his streaming eyes, then reached out to flush the toilet. He wanted to get up and get water or something, but his legs were shaking too badly. He swallowed, then breathed hard through his open mouth as his mind came back to him.

However, that completely physical relief was draining away to be replaced by a forceful disgust and a terrifyingly powerful hatred. He kept breathing, willing himself to relax, but he seemed to have lost some of his resolve. Apparently, now these memories had been dragged up from deep in his mind, he'd been weakened. His body was always betraying him, and now his mind was trying to hurt him too. Was he actually sick, or was this just a side effect of everything that had happened today? For the first time in many years, he thought of that man he'd seen on TV, covered in purple lesions, dying while being treated like a lab specimen of some biological evil.

Seishiro shuddered and felt sickness threaten to rise up inside him again, but he kept breathing, trying to stay calm and focused. No. That, at least, had not been his fate, though in retrospect it was a miracle he'd gotten out of his teens and early twenties in one piece, considering…

Seishiro swallowed again, and for a truly bizarre moment he really, _really_ wanted Subaru there. He could have called him over, made him bring him water, felt reassured by his concerned, would-be nurturing presence. But of course, he was alone now.

' _You'd think I'd be used to it,_ ' he thought, though it made him feel disgusting. He wouldn't be alone. Subaru would definitely come back, and even if he didn't, not that that was an option, Seishiro was fine being by himself. He didn't need other people. Needing other people, especially a boyfriend, was how you ended up like Setsuka, and he would _never_ end up like Setsuka.

Seishiro ran his fingers through his hair, desperately looking for the will to stand up, but more unpleasant memories had taken hold of his weakened body and were keeping him firmly in place. For years, he'd tried so hard to ignore and repress and rework them, but apparently they had been fresh and raw inside him the whole time, ready and waiting to devour him. Goosebumps rose up his arms, and he couldn't tell if it was from being sick, or walking out of school into the cold.

He was about twelve, and it was a raw March afternoon. The winter had been long, and spring was having terrible trouble getting there. Seishiro exited his middle school in the same winter coat he'd worn last year, which was too short in the arms. He paused on the front steps, his eyes out of focus behind his glasses, while his schoolmates swirled around him like a loud, rude whirlpool. He sighed, thinking he should probably go to the library, when suddenly, he heard his mother's voice. "Seishiro!" He started and looked around wildly, then spotted her. She was older now, but no less beautiful. His schoolmates were all eyeing her as only horny teenaged boys could and making lewd comments under their breath. Seishiro didn't bother to tell them off as he approached her; he knew she didn't mind the attention.

"What are you doing here?" He asked. He was now tall enough to look her right in the eye when he spoke to her.

"Don't give me attitude, Seishiro," she said, wearily. "I'm here because-"

"-there's someone at home you want me to meet?" He finished the sentence for her, a mocking note in his voice. She was about to respond, but he forestalled her. "I have to go to the library and work, can he come around on the weekend or something?" He wasn't trying to give her attitude; he just didn't want to spend an evening of his life having a meaningless conversation with someone he'd likely only know for five minutes.

"No, Seishiro, listen to me," she said, earnestly. "I think this one might actually work out! He's better than the last one!" She had said that about the last one, or three, or ten, and Seishiro had to fight with himself not to roll his eyes.

"Mother, come on…"

"Seishiro," she said, and warning had entered her voice. "You can do your work tomorrow. Tonight I really need you home." Seishiro stared back at her a moment longer, then shrugged.

"Fine, whatever." She smiled, and they headed home. Like countless other times, Seishiro let himself into their apartment to find a man he didn't know sitting on their couch. However, this man stood up, looked Seishiro right in the eye and smiled.

"Hi," he said, extending his hand. Seishiro stared back at him as he toed off his shoes. He liked to withdraw and observe at first, then create a plan of attack. "Seishiro, am I saying that right?" He was. Taken aback, Seishiro narrowed his eyes at the man's seemingly kind face and extended his hand.

"Yeah, um, nice to meet you," he muttered. The man smiled, and they shook hands.

"I'm-"

-but Seishiro wouldn't remember his name.

"Do you have homework to do, Seishiro?" His mother asked, rather breathlessly.

"I told you I was going to the library to work when you picked me up at school," he reminded her.

"Oh, yes…"

"Not paying attention again, Setsuka?" Her boyfriend asked. He laughed, and she joined in with that horrible, high-pitched laugh she always put on around these men.

"Yeah, I told her that but she made me come back here to meet you instead," Seishiro said, eyeing her boyfriend curiously to see how he'd take this.

"Setsuka," he said, reproachfully, and again she just laughed. "If you have homework to do, don't let me keep you," he told Seishiro. "Go work and come back for dinner."

"Um…" Seishiro began, incredulously. Who did this guy think he was? He looked at his mother to see if she'd disagree, but she was staring at her boyfriend with a look of almost creepy devotion on her face.

"Go to the library, Seishiro," she said, without looking at him. "Dinner will be ready by 6:30." Seishiro felt suddenly uneasy leaving his mother by herself with this person. However, it seemed alone time was on both of their minds, and he didn't want to be around for that.

"Um, yeah, okay," he said, stepping back into his shoes.

The public library was a short walk from his apartment. He spent a lot of time there. He liked to read, and it was easier to do homework here, especially when his mother would bring guys around. Seishiro picked a table and set to work, researching and taking notes for an essay.

After an hour or so, a few boys, in high school by the look of them, sat down across from Seishiro, apparently to do math homework. One of them, he noticed, had large, green eyes that always caught the light. He smiled a lot, and he and his friend would have to cover their mouths to keep from bursting into laughter. Seishiro tried to concentrate on his research, but the work was nowhere near as engaging as the older boy.

Unfortunately, they finished their work quickly and got up to leave. The boy turned to check he hadn't left anything, and for the briefest moment caught Seishiro's eye. He smiled. Seishiro blushed and snapped his gaze back to the textbook in front of him, his heart racing. He didn't look up again until he was sure they were gone. He sighed, and tried to refocus, but all he could think of was that boy's eyes and the smile they'd exchanged…

Seishiro sighed again. He still had time before he had to be home, but it seemed unlikely he'd get more work done. He gathered his things and headed back, feeling strangely light as he walked along a crowded and dirty Houston Street.

He let himself into his apartment to find his mother at the stove and her boyfriend sitting at the dining table. They both actually looked up as he entered the room, making him feel like he'd walked on stage. "Did you get all your work done?" His mother's boyfriend asked.

"I got a lot done," Seishiro replied, making an effort not to be rude. Her boyfriend nodded.

"You know, I was just saying to Setsuka," he said. "You really should have our own computer, especially as you're going to high school soon." Seishiro had no idea what to do with that statement, so he said nothing.

"Well, money's a little tight right now," his mother said, though she was eyeing her boyfriend in that appraising way that churned Seishiro's stomach. She'd always been good at extorting rent or electric bill money from her boyfriends, though none of them could afford to buy her really _nice_ things. Seishiro couldn't entirely blame her for taking what she could get, though he did find it all vaguely repulsive.

"I've got some cash," her boyfriend said with a reassuring smile.

"Really? Oh no, you don't have to do that!" His mother cried, a hand on her chest. Her boyfriend waved the words aside.

"For my future stepson? It's nothing." Seishiro's mouth went dry as he watched his mother laugh, really laugh, her face alight with pleasure. Hadn't they _just_ met? They both turned to look eagerly at Seishiro, and he felt as though he'd been backed into a corner. "How about it? We can go this Saturday and you can pick something out. It'll be an early birthday present." This was all too much too soon, and Seishiro didn't like it at all. He knew this person was trying to help, but it felt invasive. Seishiro didn't want this, but he also knew if he refused he'd be in for it later with his mother.

"Y-yeah, okay, sure," he agreed, finally. "Thank you." His mother looked delighted, her boyfriend smiled appreciatively and they sat down to dinner. Seishiro listened to the adults talk, only contributing to the conversation when it was absolutely necessary. His stomach continued to twist and squirm, even as he saw his mother happier than he'd seen her practically his whole life. He liked that, of course, but he didn't like that she'd just let this person come in and start calling the shots in their house.

Then again, it wasn't really surprising. He'd recently realized exactly how passive his mother was, how much she loved when other people took control. It was disgusting, especially because she kept looking outside to get it. Seishiro didn't understand why she couldn't just listen to him. He'd spent his whole life at her mercy, swept up in the tides of her fleeting wishes or inspirations; he knew better than anyone how to change things. Besides, he was sick of watching her make the same mistakes over and over again, with money, with men, whatever.

However, maybe this time really would be different. This guy seemed intelligent, at least, and he was older than what she usually went for. Maybe she'd finally gotten lucky.

* * *

The overhead light felt suddenly, painfully intense and Seishiro shut his eyes tight. A dull throbbing pain was beginning in his temples, or maybe that was just remembering all of this; this _moment_ growing up where things might have turned out differently. Of course, Seishiro had never trusted this man, even in the beginning when he'd been supportive and kind. Seishiro had known something was wrong, or at least off. He'd _known_! Disgust (or was it just more nausea?) rose up inside him again as memories continued to flood his mind and waterlog his body.

His mother's boyfriend had indeed bought him a computer and helped him set it up in his bedroom. There hadn't _really_ been enough space, but they'd made it work, and Seishiro had typed up his essay on it Sunday evening and saved it to a floppy disk. The following afternoon, he went to the library to print it, and he got to see that boy with the green eyes and nice smile again. He was with a girl this time, and Seishiro watched them from behind a bookshelf. He put his arm around her, she giggled and kissed him, and he smiled his smile. It made Seishiro's chest constrict painfully around his throbbing heart.

Obviously he'd seen people do this before: at school, on the train, his mother with her myriad of boyfriends. These two were different, though, and Seishiro didn't really understand how. All he knew was seeing them made him feel so, suddenly and painfully lonely. However, he continued to watch them anyway, clutching a new book and his printed essay to his chest, until they finally finished their work and left holding hands. Seishiro sighed heavily, feeling strange and inadequate, and walked to the front desk to check out his book.

It had never really occurred to Seishiro to want to be in that type of relationship before; his only example had been his mother, and he knew that wasn't what he wanted, but… Was there an alternative? Was the couple in the library really different?

Seishiro sighed heavily again as he began his walk home. He entered his building and climbed the stairs to his apartment, only to find it empty: his mother and her boyfriend were both still at work. He stepped out of his shoes, took off his coat and walked into his bedroom, the creaking floorboards echoing in the silence. Even though he was alone, he didn't feel nearly as lonely as he had done watching that couple.

He caught sight of some of his mother's boyfriend's t-shirts on the back of the couch and felt a rush of dislike that condensed into heavy guilt in his stomach. He knew he should be grateful, or at least happy that his mother was happy. However, he couldn't shake the feeling he'd always had about his mother's boyfriends: they were the invading army trying to infiltrate his castle, steal his mother and take over, and he was Brave Seishiro, standing alone to defend and mount a counter attack. He hadn't yet tried anything with this boyfriend, because he was doing good, or at least material, things for them. Seishiro was sure he'd slip up eventually though. They all did.

He extracted his library book from his school bag and lay down on his bed to read, whiling away the time until he heard a key in the lock and the scrape of the door opening. "Seishiro?" His mother called. He turned the page of his book. "Seishiro are you home?" He rolled his eyes.

"Yes!" He called, and she appeared in his doorway.

"Seishiro." He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. She smiled. "How was school today?" Seishiro shrugged. "Did you hand in your assignment?"

"It's due tomorrow, I just printed it today." She nodded, and silence fell between them.

"I'm going to go make dinner," she said, finally. "So it'll be ready when your stepfather gets home." Seishiro flushed and returned his gaze to his book.

"Could you please shut my door?" He asked, turning a page. His mother sighed, but backed out of the room and shut the door behind her. Seishiro stared hard at his book, listening to her taking pots and pans out of cabinets. He felt sort of bad about blowing her off, but he didn't want to be around her when she spoke that way, as though she and her boyfriend were married or whatever. Seishiro knew his mother found all of this secure and reassuring, but the fact that it had happened so quickly made that impossible for him.

He'd spent half of his life hearing some iteration of "I love your mom, so I'm going to be your dad now" from men who'd be gone the very next morning, never to be seen or heard from again. He and his mother were the only consistent people in each other's lives, and the only time she seemed to recognize that was after one of these men would leave her, when she'd take him into her bed and tell him how much she loved him.

Seishiro realized his grip on his book was so tight his knuckles were white. He exhaled forcefully, trying to discharge some of the tension built up in his body. He shut the book and held it to his chest, noticing his sweaty thumbprints on the old, plastic dust jacket.

* * *

Keeping his eyes closed, Seishiro shifted his position on his bathroom floor. The pins and needles in his foot, the pain in his head and the burn in his mouth and throat were the only things keeping him present, helping him fight the memories threating to make him regress into his younger self. Subaru had wanted so badly to know that person, but Seishiro had worked as hard as he could to leave him behind at Setsuka's apartment! His chest constricted painfully and he felt another shiver begin at the base of his skull and radiate outwards. He could remember _exactly_ when everything had started to go wrong, but he didn't want to, he didn't…

Over the next few weeks, his mother's boyfriend essentially moved into their apartment. His mother loved it, flying into the role of devoted housewife as though she were born to play it. Though of course, she still worked, and she still took Seishiro's father's gag money. "See? This is how things were _supposed_ to be for you growing up," she told him, over and over again. "I love you most in the world, but you need to have a father."

However, the more time her boyfriend spent with them, the more things changed for the worse. At first it had been small things. His mother's boyfriend would criticize her and put her down, both in the house and in public. She always laughed it off, agreeing with a giggle, and Seishiro had just watched, too disgusted to do anything. Her boyfriend had tried to get him on his side, to join in making fun of his mother for stupid things, but Seishiro wouldn't give in. He wouldn't defend his mother, she should be doing that herself, but he wouldn't join this person either. There he remained, grudgingly neutral, until the first time her boyfriend had actually gotten angry.

Seishiro was in his room, typing an essay for English class and waiting for his mother and her boyfriend to return from work. His mother was late, and though Seishiro was used to it, it still made him uneasy. At about 6:00, the door scraped open, and Seishiro leaned back in his chair, expecting to see his mother, but it was her boyfriend. More uneasy than ever, he sat up straight again to continue his work. His mother's boyfriend strode across the living room and Seishiro closed his eyes for a moment. "Hey, Seishiro," he said, lightly and easily.

"Hi."

"How was school?"

"Fine." Seishiro began to type again, hoping the man would leave him be.

"Where's your mom?" Seishiro shrugged and pressed his fingers harder into the keyboard, trying to drown him out with the noise. "Where's your mom?" He repeated, and Seishiro heard his tone shift.

"How should I know?" Seishiro asked, refusing to turn around.

"Excuse me?" Seishiro rolled his eyes.

"She probably got held up at work, I don't know." A moment's silence passed.

"Huh," was all her boyfriend said. Seishiro heard him turn to go, but, "What's that?" Seishiro rolled his eyes again.

"What's what?" He asked, rather irritably. Her boyfriend didn't respond, so Seishiro finally turned around. His eyes widened in horror. His mother's boyfriend had picked up Blue, his now very old and battered penguin stuffed animal, from where he usually kept him under his pillow. Seishiro's heart leapt into his throat and he stood up at once. "My favorite toy from when I was little," he said, his hands balling themselves into fists. His mother's boyfriend nodded, then placed Blue back onto the bed.

"I see," he said, thoughtfully. "Well, I'll let you get back to work." He left the room, shutting the door behind him. Seishiro rushed forward, picked up the stuffed animal and held him to his chest. He was much smaller now, from going through the washing machine and from his stuffing getting matted together. Seishiro breathed deeply, glaring at his closed door, an angry flush in his neck and face. How dare this man come into his room, touch his things and tell him what to do? Who the hell did he think he was?! Seishiro took a deep breath in and sighed it out. He felt the act like a violation, and he wouldn't stand for it. He wanted to call himself his stepfather? Move into his house? Invade and intrude this way? Fine. Seishiro was ready. He'd fight back.

Unfortunately, that night his plans got derailed. At about 8:00, his mother finally arrived home. "Sorry!" She cried, helplessly. Seishiro jumped out of his desk chair and stood in front of his closed door, listening and waiting. "Sorry! I got held up at work, I had to stay late and cover for someone, I-"

"Why are you home so late?" Seishiro's eyes widened at her boyfriend's tone. It was lower than he'd ever heard it, and there was threat simmering just beneath the seemingly innocuous question.

"I just told you, I was covering for a coworker," his mother replied, wearily. "I'll start dinner now."

"Setsuka…"

"What?!" A pause. "Oh my god, I'm sorry! I-"

"Really? You'll raise your voice at me?" Seishiro reached out and gripped his doorknob, ready.

"No, I-"

"You lie to me about what time you'll be home and now you give me attitude? Really, Setsuka? After all I've done for you?" The anger that had been simmering inside Seishiro all evening suddenly flash heated. He wrenched his door open and stormed into his living room, fists clenched and eyes blazing.

"She didn't lie to you, she got stuck at work because of some useless coworker, do you not fucking listen?!" Seishiro snapped, trying and failing to keep his voice calm. Blood pounded in his ears as he glared at his mother's boyfriend, whose lip curled.

"Seishiro!" His mother snapped, her voice much higher than usual. "You do _not_ speak to your stepfather that way, go to your room!" Seishiro turned to her instead, this injustice fueling his fire.

"Are you serious?!"

"YES I'M SERIOUS! _GO_!" Seishiro held his ground a moment longer, then made a deeply contemptuous noise, strode back into his room and slammed his door. He stared unseeingly out of his window, listening to a neighbor singing drunkenly in what could have been any language and his mother's voice, begging and desperate. "I'm sorry! I swear I didn't do it on purpose, please just let me make dinner!" Seishiro realized he was shaking.

"Fine," her boyfriend said, and the contempt in his voice was palpable. "We can talk more later." He stomped down the hall to "their" bedroom and slammed the door. Silence fell upon the apartment like a fresh snowfall. After about five minutes, though, Seishiro heard his mother pull pots and pans out of the cabinets and start to prepare dinner. Seishiro wondered if he should go to her, but, no. She'd taken her boyfriend's side. She hadn't stood up for herself or for him. Seishiro was still shaking. He had to finish his essay, but he climbed into bed and got under the covers instead. He lay curled up on his side, staring at his closed door.

Eventually, his mother approached his room and opened the door without knocking. Seishiro rolled over to avoid looking at her. "Seishiro?" He said nothing. "Seishiro, are you awake?"

' _I'm dead_ ,' he told her, mentally. She sighed impatiently.

"Dinner's ready, come and eat." Seishiro remained still and silent, willing her to leave him be. He'd go to bed hungry, he didn't care. However, she stepped forward, placed her hand on his shoulder and shook him gently.

"What?!" He snapped at her, in spite of himself, and she withdrew her hand. She shuddered and looked away, and Seishiro's chest constricted. "What?" He asked, his tone even.

"Please come eat," his mother said, very quietly. Seishiro swallowed, his chest constricting further as he thought of his mother out there by herself with her boyfriend. As much as he didn't want to, he couldn't let her do it alone.

"Fine," he replied, grudgingly. She smiled, almost gratefully, and left his room. He let out a soft groan and sat up, feeling weirdly groggy even though he hadn't actually fallen asleep. He sat down at the dining table with his mother and her boyfriend, and though dinner was tense and silent, there was no further conflict. Seishiro glared down at his plate, chancing regular looks up at his mother's boyfriend and feeling waves of dislike each time. He found it weirdly empowering: a small dose of the poison to make him feel strong, in control and ready. He'd get this man out of their house one way or another.

* * *

Seishiro felt more of the same righteous anger swell in his chest, then drain out of him, giving way to more powerful, corrosive hatred. His stomach clenched, and he swallowed, trying to keep his body calm. He opened his eyes, found the light was still too much and closed them again. However, he could still see Setsuka's kitchen as though his eyelids were a projector screen, as though the effort he'd put into forgetting and blocking out all of this was for nothing.

After that first argument, Setsuka had started making meals ahead of time and freezing them, telling Seishiro if she wasn't home by a certain time to just heat them up. Seishiro thought this was ridiculous and didn't know what was stopping her boyfriend from cooking instead, but he knew better than to ask. It didn't matter anyway. For the first time in Seishiro's life, she'd started coming home on time every night. Even though he was still angry with her for taking her boyfriend's side in that fight, he'd started coming home right after school too. It seemed they both needed this time together, even if they didn't speak to each other, before her boyfriend would appear and fill the house with demands and tension and turn her into some fucked up caricature.

A week or so after the argument over dinner, Seishiro sat at the dining table doing math homework while his mother was at the stove. They weren't speaking to each other, though his mother would occasionally glance at him over her shoulder. "What are you working on, Seishiro?" She asked, more polite than genuinely curious.

"Factoring," he replied.

"I remember that, I think," she said, and they both smiled for what felt like the first time in days. "When-" she began, but at that moment they heard her boyfriend's key scrape in the lock. The door opened, and they fell silent as he entered the apartment.

"Hey," he said, striding across the room to kiss his mother on the cheek.

"Hi," she said, smiling. "How was work?" He just shrugged. "Well, dinner will be ready in about five minutes, so…" In answer, he strode down the hallway to "their" bedroom and slammed the door. His mother gazed after him, already looking resigned. Seishiro just watched the exchange with a deeply malevolent look on his face. "What's wrong with you?!" His mother snapped, suddenly, and Seishiro raised his eyebrows as he looked up at her.

"With me? Nothing." His mother just sighed and returned to whatever she was cooking.

"Put your stuff away and set the table," she said, after a few seconds. Seishiro did so, taking as much time as he could in his room before returning to the kitchen. His mother's boyfriend was sitting at the head of the table, watching her serve dinner, and Seishiro moved around them, collecting plates and cutlery with a sense of ill usage. He set the table carelessly and took the seat opposite her boyfriend, keeping his eyes averted. His mother served dinner, sat down between them, and they began to eat in silence. Seishiro simply had nothing to say, but he could tell his mother was keeping quiet out of nerves.

"How was school today?" Her boyfriend asked Seishiro, who shrugged.

"Same as yesterday." Her boyfriend seemed to be waiting for him to elaborate. Seishiro glared back at him, preparing his counterattack, getting ready to enter the firing line with the first of his tried and true methods. "There was a fight at lunch today, though. It was pretty fucking funny."

"Seishiro!" His mother interjected, her eyes wide.

"What? He asked," Seishiro countered. As he spoke, the anger he felt almost constantly around this man heated up inside him again. Her boyfriend's lip curled.

"Oh yeah? You think fights are funny?" Seishiro looked up at him and felt heat rush up his neck.

"When the fight is over something stupid? Yeah, definitely," he replied, challenge in his voice. "We're supposed to go on a field trip to the opera soon," he continued, the anger inside him simmering more insistently. "It'll be hilarious, we'll probably get kicked out." He turned to his mother now. "You still need to sign my permission slip," he reminded her. "You're my parent or legal guardian, right?" He tilted his head to the side as if daring her to contradict him.

"Seishiro what's wrong with you tonight?" His mother asked, looking genuinely confused.

"I told you before, _nothing_ ," Seishiro replied, returning to his food. "He asked a question, I answered it, then I reminded you of something you promised to do a week ago," he finished, simply. His mother and her boyfriend exchanged a look.

"Oh, is that all?" Her boyfriend asked, and Seishiro was pleased to see he wasn't happy.

' _That's fucking right_ ,' he thought, with enormous satisfaction. ' _You want to call yourself my stepfather when you've done fuck all to earn it?_ Prepare _yourself_.'

"You don't think that was disrespectful?" Seishiro rolled his eyes.

"That's what started the fight at school today," he said. " _Disrespect_. You people let yourselves be _disrespected_ so easily, it's pathetic."

"Seishiro!" His mother snapped, making to stand up, but-

"Let me handle this, Setsuka," her boyfriend said, his voice lowering. Seishiro's eyes widened almost excitedly. His mother's boyfriend stood up and walked around to Seishiro's side of the table. Seishiro's body seemed to stiffen, but he wasn't afraid. He'd spent his childhood getting slapped around by his mother; it wasn't like he couldn't take more. However, her boyfriend didn't get any closer to him. Instead, he walked across the living room towards Seishiro's bedroom.

"Wait!" Seishiro cried, his eyes widening in fear this time. "Don't go in my room, what the fuck!" He scrambled out of his seat and sprinted to his bedroom. "Get out of my room!" He yelled, his heart pounding. His mother's boyfriend picked up Seishiro's school bag and extracted the library book he'd been reading. Seishiro's eyes darted back and forth between the book and her boyfriend's face, which was twisted into a look of triumphant fury. "GET OUT!" Seishiro screamed. His mother's boyfriend ripped the book in half. His smile widened sickeningly as he threw both halves across the room at Seishiro, who jumped out of the way at once. "That's a library book, are you fucking serious?!" Seishiro cried, horrified, looking down at the torn pages all over his floor. His mother's boyfriend sneered.

"That's your problem, isn't it? You disrespectful little shit," he snapped, before turning away. Outside, Seishiro's mother was still at the kitchen table, frozen in horror. Seishiro held her gaze for a moment, then turned away defiantly. "And you can stay in your room the rest of the night!" Her boyfriend added, spitefully. He pushed past Seishiro and slammed his bedroom door.

The crash echoed in the sudden silence and Seishiro stood completely still, his body ringing with the force of what had just happened. He had expected his mother's boyfriend to slap him across the face or twist his arm or scream the way she always did, but this was… Seishiro wrapped his arms around himself, feeling suddenly shivery. His eyes burned and he blinked furiously.

Outside, he heard his mother's boyfriend start to speak again, and it seemed to cut through the wall of stunned silence. "What the fuck do you mean? He had it coming!" Seishiro's hands tightened around his upper arms. The injustice of this welled up inside him and he blinked furiously again. "What?" A pause. "Setsuka, listen," her boyfriend continued. He was speaking to her as though she were a child, and Seishiro's stomach twisted in hot disgust and anger. "If you don't take a firm hand with boys at this age, they'll go down a bad path, trust me." Seishiro's eyes widened incredulously.

"I've been raising him by myself this whole time and he's always been good!" His mother protested, suddenly, as though this fact had only just occurred to her.

"Setsuka," her boyfriend said, wearily patient. "I'm a man, all right? I understand much better than you." Seishiro wanted to go out there, to put this disgusting, unworthy person in his place, but he felt paralyzed. He wasn't afraid, though! He couldn't be afraid! Not of such a worthless person, and yet… "He'll learn," his mother's boyfriend said, his tone both confident and threatening. "He'll learn." Seishiro realized his fingernails were digging into his upper arms and let go. Neither his mother nor her boyfriend said anything else.

Seishiro sighed. Slowly and carefully, he began to pick up all the pages that had fallen out of his book when it had torn. His heart beat faster with each page he collected, as though he could feel their pain. Obviously that was ridiculous, but… His vision went suddenly blurry. He blinked, and the tears slid down his face. He wiped them away impatiently as he put all of the pages back in order, then back between their covers. He placed the book carefully on his desk, then climbed into bed and under the blankets.

It was dark outside, and though it was a relatively warm night, he still felt cold and shivery. He retrieved Blue from underneath his pillow and curled up into a ball around him, trying to stay warm. In the living room, it sounded like someone had turned on the news. Seishiro heard the beginning of a report about "further investigations into the World Trade Center bombing," which had been constant for the last two and a half months. He closed his eyes and drifted in and out of sleep.

He woke up some time later, groggy and hungry. He checked the time on the alarm clock on his bedside table and found it was nearly 1 AM. ' _Good_ ,' he thought. He got out of bed, opened his door slowly and walked cautiously through his living room into the kitchen, the floorboards creaking under his feet. Darkness pressed on his eyes, but couldn't turn on any lights. He'd be in trouble for being up this late, regardless of which adult caught him.

He opened the refrigerator and reached for an old take out container full of leftovers. He hadn't really tried it at dinner, so he had no idea if it would taste good or not, but it didn't matter. He closed the refrigerator, then turned to open the cutlery drawer. Everything was mismatched, cheap or just more plastic relics from take out orders. Seishiro's throat constricted painfully, but he swallowed and, almost defiantly, grabbed a fork and shut the drawer. His throat was still tight as he sat down at his dining table. He began to eat, but he could hardly swallow.

After a while, he heard "their" bedroom door open and someone walk quietly to the bathroom. The light clicked on, illuminating the hallway entrance, and Seishiro paused, gazing cautiously in its direction. He heard the sink turn on, then off before everything went dark again. The hallway floor creaked under someone's footsteps as they walked towards the kitchen. Seishiro's heart sped up and he braced himself for getting screamed at or whatever else.

His mother entered the room, looking exhausted. "What are you doing up?" She asked. She didn't sound angry. Seishiro looked down at the take out container, then back up at her. Her face seemed to sag, and suddenly, for the first time ever, she looked old. Seishiro's throat burned as she crossed the room, picked up her pack of cigarettes from the coffee table and sat down beside him. "Would you like me to heat that up?" She asked. Seishiro closed his eyes and shook his head before returning to his food. His mother lit her cigarette, took a deep pull on it and exhaled the smoke over her shoulder. "Go get whatever I need to sign, please?" Seishiro swallowed his last bite, then hurried to his bedroom as quietly as he could. He retrieved the permission slip and a pen from his desk and returned to the kitchen. She took them from him and signed it wordlessly.

"Thank you," he said. He hesitated, then sat down beside her again. She just sighed, looking older than ever through the haze of cigarette smoke.

"Are you excited?" She asked. Seishiro shrugged. His mother put out her cigarette in the ashtray between them. "He cares for you, you know, Seishiro." Seishiro and his mother locked eyes and his fists clenched under the table. "He wants you to grow up well, that's all." Seishiro pressed his lips tightly together to keep himself from disagreeing. It wouldn't do either of them any favors to get into a fight right now. "But," she added, a pleading note in her voice. "Let's try not to make him angry, okay?" Seishiro's eyes widened in horrified disbelief. "Seishiro, _please_ ," she hissed, before he could say anything. They stared hard at each other, and Seishiro knew there was no arguing with her.

Instead, he just nodded, and she hugged him. In spite of himself, Seishiro felt some of the tension in his body drain away in a weird rush. He screwed up his eyes and held onto her. "I love you more than anyone else in the world, Seishiro," she told him. Seishiro nodded against her chest. "I'll clean this up, you go to sleep," she said, when she let go of him. "You have school tomorrow." Seishiro nodded again, feeling suddenly exhausted. "And, um, get some cash out of my purse to pay for that library book." Seishiro closed his eyes, and nodded yet again. He did as he was told, though he wasn't sure how much money he'd need, and traipsed back to his room.

He shut the door and got back into bed without bothering to change into nightclothes. He curled once more around his stuffed animal and listened to his mother clean up the remains of his dinner.

The next day at school, Seishiro handed his permission slip to his English teacher as the last bell rang. "Ah, perfect, thank you!" She told him, smiling. Seishiro liked this teacher. She didn't have the do-gooder, savior attitude of her peers or the jaded "the younger generations are leading us to hell" attitude of her superiors. He turned to go, but, "Seishiro?" He looked back at her, and he could read sadness in her expression. He waited, curious, but all she said was, "You did a really good job on your last essay. I was impressed." Seishiro shifted his schoolbag to his other shoulder.

"Thank you." She smiled.

"I'll be excited to hear what you think of Madame Butterfly on Sunday." Seishiro just nodded. "Have a good rest of your night, okay?" Again, Seishiro nodded, then turned to go.

On his way home from school, he took a detour to the library, feeling nervous. Fortunately, as he approached the front desk, he saw it was the nice librarian working. She was an older lady who knew both his name and how to say it correctly. She smiled when she saw him, and his stomach clenched guiltily at what he was about to tell her. "Did you finish that book already?" She asked, sounding impressed. Seishiro flushed, but his voice was steady.

"Um, about that, I," he swallowed. "I think my mother may have thrown it away by accident."

"Oh dear!" Seishiro nodded. He'd been debating excuses all day and had decided on this one at lunchtime.

"Yeah, I'm really sorry," he continued, and he meant it. "I brought in money to pay for it, though, so…" His flush deepened.

"It's all right honey it happens. I think we have another copy if you want to check it out, hold on a moment." She was about to look it up but Seishiro shook his head. After all, it wasn't like he couldn't still read the copy he had.

"No, it's fine, I'll just check out something else." She nodded understandingly and Seishiro handed over the money he'd taken from his mother's purse. He then prowled between the shelves of books, looking for something new to read, and possibly that boy with the green eyes. Unfortunately, he wasn't there today. Not that Seishiro had any idea what he'd do if he saw him, but it would have been nice. In the end, Seishiro checked out another book and headed home, disappointment and shame churning his guts.

His mother's boyfriend's temper cooled off over the next few days, and Seishiro's next clear memory was Sunday morning, the day of his field trip. His mother was at work, and her boyfriend wasn't in the house, which suited Seishiro just fine. He washed and dressed carefully, unsure what to wear and feeling self-conscious. He didn't really have nice clothes. Once he was as satisfied as he could be with his appearance, he gathered his things and was out the door.

It had gotten cold again, and a chilly breeze ruffled Seishiro's damp hair, but the sun hung high overhead, coating the city in fresh spring light. His neighborhood was crowded with people: families with small children, old ladies with grocery carts and here and there a young, single person who appeared _way_ more affluent than the surrounding crowds.

Seishiro headed up one block, then west along Houston Street towards the train station. He boarded a dirty and graffitied D train and rode it uptown, unsure what to expect. He very rarely took the train anywhere; he didn't really need to leave his neighborhood for much. His world was small: his apartment, his school and those places in between. When he was younger, it had felt secure, knowing only the small corner of New York City in which he'd grown up, even though the area could hardly be called safe. Recently, though, it had started to feel oppressive. Seishiro wanted to expand and explore, especially as his mother's boyfriend became more and more demanding.

After about twenty minutes, he emerged from the train station at Columbus Circle. He looked around with wide eyes. It was crowded here too, but everyone appeared well dressed, affluent and friendly. The streets were clean, and there weren't any police officers around. To Seishiro's right, the southwest corner of Central Park was surrounded by tourists and families. He felt totally out of place, but did his utmost not to panic as he continued up Broadway, trying not to draw attention to himself.

A few blocks later, Seishiro arrived at Lincoln Center and immediately felt that visceral spasm of intimidation that always came with travelling to nicer parts of the city. He had never been here before, and his curiosity fought with his anxiety as he looked around. He was standing in front of three large white buildings, all modern, sleek and covered in posters advertising the current season of opera, music and ballet. Swallowing another rush of intimidation, Seishiro crossed the street and spotted his school group, large and chattering, with their teachers attempting to control them.

"Seishiro!" His English teacher called, waving as he joined the group. "Perfect! Okay, everybody! We're going to go ahead and get into pairs now!" Seishiro's schoolmates went as quiet as it was possible to get them. "I'm going to call out the pairs and you'll line up in front of me, yes?" In the crowd, someone called,

"Yes!" And she laughed.

"Okay!" She began calling people's names, then finally, "-and Seishiro!" He stepped into line and was joined by a boy who always sat a few seats away from him in English and math. They'd never spoken, though; he was also the type to want nothing to do with their classmates. He smiled rather furtively at Seishiro, who returned the gesture, noticing his bright green eyes and feeling his heart speed up for some reason. They didn't speak to each other as they walked side by side towards the opera house. They entered through large, glass doors and there was a collective, "Ooh!" from his classmates. Seishiro himself let out a soft gasp, staring around in awe. He'd never seen such a beautiful, glamorous place, even in photos.

He noticed that a few elderly people, presumably going to the same show, were casting them all resigned, cross looks. Seishiro felt his face grow hot. He bit his lip and looked down at the ground, but his partner just laughed. Seishiro watched him out of the corner of his eye. He smiled and waved at the nearest couple, who responded with even dirtier looks. His partner just rolled his eyes. "Assholes," he muttered to Seishiro. "We have just as much right to be here as they do." Seishiro's flush deepened, but he felt heartened by his partner's bravery and stood up straight again.

They climbed a set of carpeted stairs that wound upwards and upwards and were directed by tuxedo wearing ushers to a section in the middle of a high tier. There was another collective "Ooh!" as they looked over the edge of the balcony. The curtains still drawn across the stage were a rich red, and the walls on either side were painted a deep, bright gold. Above them, a chandelier glittered in the soft light that radiated from the hundreds of stage lights, and below them the orchestra was getting ready in the pit. A low, anticipatory chatter filled the air, and everyone Seishiro could see looked excited. "Have you been here before?" Seishiro started and turned to see his partner smiling at him. He shook his head, fresh heat rushing up his neck.

"Have you?" He asked, tentatively.

"I came here with my sister to see the ballet once, but I was really little so I can't remember it too well." Seishiro nodded, watching his eyes shine beautifully in the golden light and his lips forming the words. "It was-" the lights overhead suddenly flashed and a hush fell over the audience.

"Quiet, please, everybody!" Their English teacher's voice rang out from behind them. The lights dimmed, and Seishiro stared intently at the stage. The orchestra all played the same, long note together, paused, then played the note again. An elderly man in a suit entered the orchestra pit, and the audience broke into applause.

"The conductor," Seishiro's partner whispered to him, and he shivered slightly as he began to clap too. They watched him shake hands with a younger man holding a violin, then take his place on a podium. He raised his arms, and the orchestra began to play the first act. The curtain rose, and Seishiro fixed his eyes upon the stage as the two men there began to sing. He gasped softly and shivered again. He'd never heard _anything_ like it before, and he felt the music in his entire body, not just his ears. It was an almost overwhelming feeling, and he wasn't sure if he liked it. He shifted slightly in his seat, biting his lip. Next to him, his partner also let out a soft gasp, and Seishiro shivered yet again. Above the stage, an English translation of the script was projected, and he followed as best he could, though the performers were mesmerizing. In no time at all, the first act ended, and Seishiro clapped hard with the rest of the audience. He let out a shaky exhale, though he hadn't even realized he'd been holding his breath.

"What do you guys think?" Their English teacher asked, leaning over to address Seishiro and his partner.

"It's awesome!" Seishiro's partner cried, enthusiastically, and Seishiro's heart skipped.

"Yeah!" He agreed, nodding, although, truthfully, he didn't trust that American soldier at all. He reminded him of all of his mother's worthless boyfriends, seducing with power and promises they had no intention of backing up. He swallowed. He already felt like he knew how the story would end. However, as the second act started, he became fully engrossed once again. He found his eyes fixed upon the small boy playing Butterfly's son, not speaking but clinging to his mother's kimono.

Seishiro watched Butterfly be rejected by her son's father. He watched him and his American wife agree to take in Butterfly's son. Finally, he watched her commit suicide. He couldn't help but wonder if his own father would ever accept him and take him in, though he highly doubted it. His father had never wanted him, after all, and he didn't think his wife even knew he existed. So then, what _would_ become of Seishiro if something were to happen to his mother? Would he just be left in the care of her boyfriend? Molten fear suddenly erupted in Seishiro's chest and he shut his eyes, feeling overwhelmed and doing his utmost not to start crying from the sheer force of it all. He couldn't cry here, not in front of all his classmates. Besides, his mother was fine! She always told Seishiro how much she loved him; she'd never leave him!

Applause broke out suddenly, making Seishiro jump. He clapped along with the rest of the audience, defiantly swallowing his tears. "That was so good!" His partner cried, his arms raised so he was clapping above his head, and Seishiro couldn't help but smile. They got up and filed out of their row of seats, following the rest of their classmates out of the theater. "Hey, are you okay?" Seishiro's partner asked, suddenly, looking at him in some concern. Seishiro flushed, but nodded, forcing himself to pay attention.

"Yeah! Yeah I'm fine."

"The ending was really fucked up." Seishiro swallowed.

"Yeah."

"All operas have fucked up endings, though," his partner continued, and Seishiro found this very reassuring, though he couldn't have said exactly why. He felt the sadness and fear in his chest abate slightly as they walked side by side back out of the opera house. He blinked in the bright, late afternoon sunlight, and felt rather uplifted all of a sudden, though still disconnected from those around him. His teachers were saying goodbye to everyone as they got picked up or headed off in groups back into the city. Seishiro felt all the more awkward as he watched, waiting for everyone to be gone to he could slip quietly back down Broadway. "Are you just going home now?" His partner asked, suddenly.

"Um," Seishiro started to say. His partner was still smiling. "Um, yeah, I guess so."

"Are you taking the D train?"

"Yeah…"

"Do you want to go together?" Seishiro's eyes widened. He'd never been asked such a thing before and wasn't really sure how to respond, except,

"Oh, um, sure…" He prayed he didn't sound as awkward as he felt. His partner laughed.

"Cool, let's go!" They told their teachers goodbye, then headed off together down Broadway. Seishiro's heart was beating rather fast. He found his partner strangely engaging, different from the rest of his schoolmates, and apparently he thought the same of Seishiro. He wanted to say something to him, but had no idea what. He sort of wished he could just observe him secretly from afar: his facial expressions, the way his hair swayed when he turned his head, the way his hands moved in the pockets of his sweatshirt. "Do you live close to school?" He asked. Seishiro shook himself.

"Yeah, on Clinton Street." His partner nodded thoughtfully. "What about you?" Seishiro asked, seizing onto the subject even though it was basic.

"I'm on Houston, right across from the library," he replied, and Seishiro's heart leapt.

"Oh, I go there all the time!" He cried, before he could stop himself. He flushed, but his partner grinned and nodded.

"Yeah, me too!" They exchanged an excited smile as they entered the train station at Columbus Circle.

"You, you like to read?" Seishiro persisted, cautiously as they stood waiting on the downtown platform.

"I love to read," his partner replied, very seriously. "I like high fantasy or science fiction, anything that takes place in another world." Seishiro nodded, his eyes wide. "What do you like?" He asked, looking at him curiously and making his heart bang against his ribs.

"I like non-fiction, but… What's your favorite book? Maybe it'll change my mind." His partner's face lit up.

"My favorite? Oh it's gotta be this sci-fi series-" But at that moment the D train trundled into the station and he fell silent as they boarded it. It was quite crowded, and they had to stand much closer together than they would usually have done. However, Seishiro listened eagerly to his partner talk about his favorite series of books, about the huge cast of characters and the adventures they had together, fighting against an oppressive intergalactic force trying to take over all the planets in the universe. Truthfully, it didn't sound like Seishiro's thing at all. However the way this boy described it, so animated and eager, made him want to pick it up. He found him slightly overwhelming, but he couldn't look away.

Between Herald Square and West 4th Street, the train came to a sudden stop and all the passengers seized the nearest pole or bar. Seishiro's partner fell forward, right into him, and his breath caught in his chest. "My bad!" His partner exclaimed, looking embarrassed.

"No, it's fine!" Seishiro replied, hastily, helping him to stand up straight. His heart was pounding again, and he felt as though all the parts of his body that had been in contact with him were burning. He didn't mention this, obviously, but he knew he was blushing. Fortunately, it was only one stop after that. They got off the train at Broadway Lafayette Street and headed back east, then said goodbye on Seishiro's corner.

Seishiro felt as though his heart and lungs had suddenly grown too large for his body as he watched him go. At the same time, though, his steps were lighter than ever as he made his way back home. He hoped he'd find his mother in a good mood. He'd like to tell her about the show, if she wanted to hear it. Then he'd finish the library book he had checked out so he could go get the first volume of that sci-fi series. He smiled to himself as he opened the door to his building.

However, as he climbed the stairs to his apartment, he knew immediately something was wrong. Over the music and television blaring behind other people's doors, Seishiro could hear what was unmistakably an argument. ' _Oh no_ ,' he thought, feeling like his overfull guts had suddenly disappeared. He sprinted up the stairs and heard his mother scream,

"FUCK YOU!" His hands shook as he dug in his bag for his keys.

"YOU'RE REALLY GOING TO TALK TO ME THAT WAY?! YOU WORTHLESS SPOILED BITCH!" Seishiro shoved his key into the lock and wrenched his door open just in time to see his mother's boyfriend raise his hand and slap her hard across the face. She fell down onto the floor, clutching her cheek, a look of abject terror on her face.

Seishiro's vision seemed to hone in on his mother's boyfriend's face, red and twisted in terrifying fury. He sprinted across the room and stood in front of his mother, his arms spread wide. "SEISHIRO, NO!" His mother screamed.

"GET AWAY!" Seishiro yelled. His mother's boyfriend sneered and drew his fist back.

* * *

Seishiro clapped his hand over his right eye. Even though he couldn't remember the punch itself, he could still feel the pain. He felt another shudder begin right at the back of his neck and the ensuing wave of nausea, but he resisted it as hard as he could, feeling the memories overtake him again.

The next thing he knew he'd woken up in his bed, it must have been the next morning, the entire right side of his face aching. He sat up, feeling groggy and rather sick. His vision was blurry and he squinted, feeling around on his bedside table for his glasses. He picked them up, but found the right lens cracked and the temple missing. Seishiro stared at them for a moment, then carefully held them up to his face so he could at least see as he tried to piece together what had happened.

He'd come home, found his mother and her boyfriend in a fight and- He jumped out of bed and sprinted down the hall to his bathroom, still holding his broken glasses to his face. He looked at himself in the mirror above the sink and let out a horrified cry. His right eye was bloodshot and all around it was swollen and bruised. Seishiro dropped his broken glasses into the sink and stood on tiptoe to inspect the damage. His lip trembled as he tenderly felt the area around his eye with his fingertips. "Ow…" He said, softly, and tears came before he could stop them. "Mother?!" He called, suddenly, desperately, though he knew she wasn't home. "Mother?!" He cried again, breathing so fast he was making himself dizzy. "MOTHER!" He sprinted into her bedroom, unable to see through his near-sightedness and tears, feeling so, _utterly_ alone. "Mother…" He said, softly, crying without restraint.

He fell into her bed and wrapped himself in her covers, trying desperately to recall her soft voice, her heartbeat, any sense of safety he'd ever felt with her. He couldn't stop crying and his heart and face throbbed in pain.

After who knows how long, he finally heard the door creek open. Seishiro sat bolt upright, the blankets still wrapped around him. "Seishiro?" His mother called, and he cried out in relief.

"I'm in your room!" She came rushing down the hall and appeared in the doorway, carrying a plastic bag from a drug store. Her eyes filled with tears as they fell upon Seishiro. He noticed her lip was swollen.

"Oh my god, Seishiro…" She said, her hand over her mouth. Seishiro began to cry again and she rushed to sit beside him. He fell into her arms, crying without restraint and holding onto her as tightly as he could. She held him for a few moments, rubbing his back and sighing heavily. Her voice shook slightly when she finally spoke, even though she was trying to sound reassuring. "It's all right, Seishiro, look," she said, extracting a smooth black glasses case from her shopping bag. "I went to the eye doctor and got you a new pair while you were sleeping. You'll have to go for an eye exam before you get another new pair, though, they said."

Seishiro sniffed and wiped his left eye before taking the case from her. He opened it and put on his new glasses, bringing his mother's bedroom into focus. More tears slid down his face, but he just wiped them away impatiently. "I also got bandages, so you can cover your eye while you're at school." Seishiro nodded.

"Um, where is…?" He shuddered.

"At work, he'll be back this evening."

"What?!" Seishiro stared at her in horrified disbelief. "No! I don't want him back, make him leave!" His mother sighed.

"I can't," she said, simply, though it clearly pained her. "I… It was my fault we had that fight yesterday, I have to try and make it better."

"Mother, he hit you in the face, are you fucking serious?!"

"Do _not_ speak to me like that, Seishiro!"

"Mother, please! _Please_ don't let him come back!"

"I _will_ and you will respect that!" She snapped, suddenly furious. Seishiro moved away from her. "I'm your mother, do not fight with me about this, do you understand?!" Seishiro realized he was shaking, but he said nothing. His mother's expression softened slightly. "He cried so hard last night, Seishiro," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "He was so sorry, he kept icing your eye while you were sleeping." The idea of that man continuing to touch him while he was unconscious made Seishiro want to throw up. He pressed his lips tightly together, still saying nothing. "He's so, _so_ sorry." Seishiro looked into his mother's face, her expression desperate and pleading. All he could do was nod. They passed a few moments together in very tense silence.

"Can I have the bandages so I can go to the library?" He asked, wearily. His mother nodded.

"I'll help you put them on, here." She had tried, but she kept wrapping them too tightly. Seishiro had finally snapped at her, and she had retreated. He stood in the bathroom, squinting at his reflection, and bandaged up his black eye. When he finished, he put on his new glasses. The sight of his own reflection made him want to crawl into a hole and die. Or kill his mother's boyfriend. Or something. Clenching his teeth and his fists, Seishiro gathered his things and left the apartment, debating for the first time just never coming back.

* * *

Seishiro opened his eyes, his nausea having finally abated. The light in his bathroom wasn't quite so hard on his eyes, though he still felt weak and sick. He reflected that the afternoon at the opera and the subsequent fight had been like losing the last, tiny pebble restraining a massive, catastrophic landslide. After that, everything had started moving, and it was painful and terrifying and shameful.

He remembered going to school the next day and feeling like Frankenstein's monster: a smart and dignified creature, horribly disfigured, rejected by its creator and shunned by all the people around it.

Naturally, his classmates were all very curious about why he had missed a day of school, then shown up covered in bandages. They weren't troubling to keep their voices low as they gossiped behind their hands, or just openly teased him. He had always been teased, for his name and his clothes and his overall strangeness, but now all the work he'd put in to making himself invisible seemed to be for nothing. He felt humiliated and furious.

"What happened to your eye?"

"Why do you have bandages on?"

"You look like a pirate!"

"It's none of your _fucking_ business what happened!" Seishiro snapped, finally, during his first period English class. "And the next person to ask me is getting knocked the fuck out!" His classmates all exchanged half apprehensive, half excited looks.

"Seishiro?" His teacher's voice. Great.

"Yes?" He asked, far more aggressively than he'd intended.

"Stay inside during break today. The rest of you, in your seats, now. We need to get started." His classmates obeyed, still muttering to themselves. Seishiro was barely listening to what his teacher was saying the entire class, but he didn't care. He was worried about what she was going to say to him. He knew she'd ask about his eye and he was well aware of the dangerous path such a conversation could take.

When his mother's boyfriend had come home from work the night before, he'd asked to speak to Seishiro. It made his skin crawl even looking at this man, but he agreed. "I'm sorry, Seishiro," he said. Seishiro said nothing. "I'm sorry, I swear I didn't mean to do that to you. I didn't mean to lose my temper." He was staring hard at Seishiro, apparently pleading for him to understand, and Seishiro stared back, but remained silent. He felt that what happened went well beyond losing your temper. However, he knew not to argue. "Your mom and I had been in a fight, and-" Seishiro didn't bother listening to the rest of the excuse. He watched the man's lips moving, but all he heard was an odd ringing in his ears. He hated this man. He _hated_ him. He wanted him gone, and he would find a way.

"Your mother said you fell when you were climbing some scaffolding."

"What?" Seishiro suddenly found himself in front of his teacher's desk, though he had no idea how he'd gotten there, or even when class had ended. His teacher tilted her head to the side, a strange expression on her face.

"You were climbing scaffolding in front of a building and fell on Sunday night." Seishiro had to fight hard not to roll his good eye. Really? That was the best she could come up with? "That must have hurt," his teacher continued, sympathetically.

"Yeah, I guess," Seishiro muttered, shuddering, seeing again the raised fist and feeling the memory in his entire body. For a moment, he wondered if his teacher believed his mother's story, and if she didn't, would she ask for the truth? Or guess? Seishiro knew he could tell her what had really happened and she'd be obligated to notify the authorities. He had to admit, his mother's boyfriend being led away in handcuffs was an appealing vision, though it dissolved just as quickly as it had come. He doubted it would ever get that far: he had no proof except for the bruises and his own word, because he knew his mother would parrot whatever lies her boyfriend told about how she and Seishiro had gotten hurt. He knew how it would look to police, a teenaged son trying to get his mother's new boyfriend in trouble. Sick anger bubbled inside Seishiro. Even as he swore to himself he'd get rid of this person, right now he was completely stuck, and he absolutely hated it.

"Keep putting ice on it," his teacher advised him, quietly, her eyes full of concern. Seishiro nodded. She sighed heavily and looked away for a moment before continuing. "I was thinking about you the other day." Seishiro stared at her, perplexed.

"Me? Why?" She smiled.

"I know it's early, but have you thought about where you'd like to go to high school?" She was staring at him very intently, and Seishiro met her gaze, though he felt more perplexed than ever.

"Um, no… I mean, should I?" She nodded.

"There's a college prep school around the corner from here," she said, her gaze intensifying. "A really good friend of mine teaches there, you may want to look into it." Seishiro understood the last part to mean, "I'd like you to apply." Truthfully, thinking that far ahead was rather a foreign concept to him. He'd always been so absorbed in the moment, in his mother's mood, in who she was bringing around now, in whether or not she'd come home that night, and it had gotten worse since this boyfriend had entered the picture. How could he think about what would happen the year after next when he wasn't even sure what would happen that night? However, all he said out loud was,

"Yeah, maybe." His teacher swallowed, and for a moment she looked so sad. Seishiro clenched his fists. He didn't need her sympathy. How could she possibly understand?

"School is a good way out, Seishiro," she told him, delicately but seriously, and his eyes widened in more confusion.

"I," he began, though he had no idea what to say.

"At least, it was for me." She stared at him, hard in the face, and he stared back, his heart beating uncomfortably. "You're smart, Seishiro. Don't waste it." His heart continued to beat, but he said nothing. The bell rang loudly in the hallway, signaling the start of the next class.

Seishiro spent the rest of the day avoiding looking at his schoolmates and trying to block out everything they said to and about him. He really wanted to go home, even though he was terrified about what he'd find there. His teacher's words also kept coming back to him, intriguing and bothersome. ' _But how will school be a way out? I can't just leave, Mother needs me!_ " He thought as he walked slowly down the hall. He stared straight ahead, though took in none of his surroundings. ' _She needs me to protect her from all these guys she brings around, I can't just…_ " He pushed open the door and walked outside, shivering even though it was a warm, sunny day.

"Seishiro?" He started and turned. His partner from the field trip was there, apparently waiting for him. Seishiro flushed.

"Hi," he replied.

"I wanted to talk to you before, but," he broke off, his eyes full of concern, and Seishiro's flush deepened. "You aren't in trouble, right? For what you said?" Seishiro shook his head. "Okay good because that would be unfair as hell." Seishiro felt the words, genuine and validating, in his chest.

"She just wanted to talk about high school," he replied, quietly.

"Cool," his partner said, smiling, and Seishiro couldn't help but smile back.

"I, um, I got the first book in the series you told me about." His partner's entire face lit up in excitement and Seishiro's heart throbbed almost painfully.

"That's awesome! Do you like it?" Seishiro swallowed, fresh heat rushing up his neck.

"I haven't started it yet," he replied, apologetically, his stomach squirming.

"Don't worry about it! Just let me know when you start. I don't know anyone else into it, so it'd be really cool to have you to talk to." Resolve emerged from deep inside Seishiro and he nodded earnestly.

"Tomorrow," he said, very seriously. "We can talk about it tomorrow." His partner smiled excitedly.

"Awesome. I actually have to go, but, I just wanted to make sure you were okay." Once again, Seishiro felt the words in his chest.

"Thanks," he replied, rather lamely, though he was being sincere. "I'll, um, I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Yeah, for sure!" His partner turned and hurried away, waving over his shoulder. Seishiro's heart pounded in his chest, but it seemed to soften some of the hurt and fear and anger that had hardened his guts over the last few weeks. He started his walk home, feeling like he could handle what would happen once he got there as long as he could escape into his room, feel safe behind his closed door with his book.

He finished the first volume of the sci-fi series in two days and checked out the next one from the library at once. It wasn't something he would have read on his own, but it allowed him to disconnect from his current, sad circumstances. Escaping to another world and spending time in someone else's head was such a relief, even if it was all fictional. His favorite character was a villain who worked for the government as an assassin. However, it he had recently done the protagonist and her friends a few favors and his motives weren't clear yet.

It also gave him and his… friend? Yes, his _friend_ , so much to discuss, and they both loved it. His friend would wax on about his favorite characters, swear loudly in horror when he accidentally revealed a spoiler and get emotional when talking about the sad parts. Seishiro could just watch and listen, and it was perfect. They started having lunch together almost every day, and even in the ugly fluorescent light of the cafeteria, his green eyes would shine so beautifully as he'd go through his myriad of facial expressions. Seishiro started to feel like he was living for those twenty-five minutes they had together every day, sequestered in their corner, impervious to everything else.

His friend had asked him a few times if he'd like to come over after school, but Seishiro would always blush and say no, claiming his mother wanted him home every day until his eye was better. This wasn't true, of course, and Seishiro hated lying to his friend, but what was he supposed to tell him? "I'm scared my mother's boyfriend will hurt her if I'm not there?" He didn't want to ruin what they had, their tiny bubble of safety Seishiro had come to depend on.

"What about when your eye is better, though?" Seishiro bit his lip as he stared into his friend's eager face, but nodded. "Shake on it!" Seishiro couldn't help but smile. They shook hands. His friend's hand was smaller than his, warm and smooth, and he gave Seishiro's a squeeze before letting go and turning to head home. Seishiro stared at his hand, which seemed to be tingling. He flexed his fingers a few times, then began his own walk home.

A week or so later, Seishiro was in front of his bathroom mirror, squinting at his reflection. His bruises had faded to an unpleasant greenish yellow, but they were much less noticeable. He could get away with not wearing bandages today, which meant… He walked into his living room. His mother was sitting on the couch, a cigarette smoldering sadly in her hand. She stared straight ahead, her eyes glazed over. She'd been like this the last few days, since she and her boyfriend had gotten into a fight over her job. Thankfully, it hadn't escalated, but Seishiro knew she was afraid of what was to come. "Mother?" She started and looked around. It seemed like she was having trouble getting him into focus.

"Yes? What is it, Seishiro?" He swallowed.

"I'm um, I'm going to a friend's house after school today," he told her, his stomach squirming guiltily.

"What?" He didn't blame her for her shocked tone. He couldn't remember ever telling her that before.

"I'm going to a friend's house after school," he told her again. "So I'll be home later than usual."

"Right, okay," she replied. She still looked totally perplexed, but also seemed too tired to think about it too much. Seishiro picked up his school bag and walked across the room to the door. "Wait!" His mother jumped to her feet and sprinted over to him. "Will you please come home before he does?" She asked, her eyes wide and fearful. Seishiro's throat burned alarmingly as he stared into his mother's face. She looked terrified, and so… Seishiro couldn't name the expression, but he nodded bravely. She hugged him, exhaling sharply into his neck. "I love you more than anyone else in the world, Seishiro," she told him. The smoke from her cigarette swirled around them and Seishiro shifted uncomfortably in her arms.

"I love you too." A pause. "I have to go to school." She let go of him, and he was out the door. Guilt tugged at his insides as he hurried along Delancey Street, but the unpleasant feeling was eclipsed fairly quickly when he saw his friend outside the school building. "Hey!" He called. His friend turned, and his eyes widened in surprise.

"Whoa, you can see again!" They exchanged an excited smile.

"Yeah! So, I can come over after school today, I mean, if it's still okay…"

"Awesome!"

"I can't stay long because my mom wants me home for dinner, but-"

"That's cool! Oh man this is awesome, there's something I really want to show you!" His friend continued excitedly as they walked into school. The rest of the day seemed to drag. Seishiro _longed_ for it to be over so he and his friend could go off together. He had no idea what to expect, but it was such a welcome change he couldn't help but feel excited.

At last, they met up in front of school and set off together, walking side by side. Seishiro's palms were sweating, so he kept them in his pockets. They didn't speak much until they crossed Houston Street, and Seishiro's friend indicated a scratched and graffitied door. "This is me. My sister might be home, but," he shrugged, and opened the door. Seishiro followed him up to the second floor, then through the first door on the left.

His first impression was of warmth, light and coziness. He felt slightly overwhelmed as he looked around his friend's living room. It was full of natural light and all the furniture was covered in crocheted blankets. A teenaged girl was sitting on the couch, her homework spread out over the coffee table. She looked up. "Hey," she said, smiling.

"Hi," his friend replied. "This is my friend, Seishiro, from school." She stood up, walked over and extended her hand with a smile.

"Nice to meet you."

"You too." They shook hands.

"We'll be in my room," Seishiro's friend continued, and his sister nodded.

"Do you guys want snacks or anything?" She asked, kindly. Seishiro looked to his friend, who grinned.

"Yeah, that'd be awesome," he replied. "She's only being nice cause you're here," he added to Seishiro in a stage whisper.

"Shut up, worm," she snapped, though it was clearly a term of endearment. "I'll bring you something, you guys go ahead." Seishiro could only nod, feeling overwhelmed by such kindness, and followed his friend to his room. He'd never been in a place so saturated with happiness, where everyone seemed at ease and safe. He wished his mother could have experienced it.

They entered his friend's bedroom, and Seishiro let out a soft gasp. It was full of books, and there were photographs and posters all over the walls. His collection of his sci-fi series was displayed proudly on a shelf above his bed. Seishiro looked around eagerly. He wanted to touch some part of it, connect even for a moment with this world that felt so foreign and imbibe some of its safety and happiness. "I, I really like your room," Seishiro said, rather awkwardly, and his friend just laughed.

"Yeah it's all right. Here, I wanted to show you…" He walked across to his dresser, on which a collection of small figures was displayed. He picked up one of them, turned around and held it out to Seishiro. "He's your favorite character, right?" Seishiro's eyes widened as he stared at the figure, dressed all in black with a mischievous smile.

"Yeah! How did you get that?!"

"I've got everybody, see?" Seishiro looked and realized he had the entire cast in miniature, all displayed on his dresser. "I ordered them from a magazine," he continued, obviously pleased with himself. Seishiro nodded, gazing at the figure of his favorite character. "But they sent me two of him by mistake when I ordered the set, so I figured you could have it if you want it." Seishiro's throat constricted painfully.

"Are you sure?" He asked, when he found his voice. His friend nodded.

"Yeah! Here," he handed the figure to Seishiro, who held it in both hands and stared at it in wonder.

"Are you sure?" He asked again, the generosity so overwhelming it was enough to make him light headed.

"I keep telling you I am," his friend reminded him, though he was smiling at how pleased Seishiro was. Seishiro just nodded and tucked the figure carefully into his schoolbag.

"Thank you," he said, very seriously, hot in the face and heart pounding.

"No problem." They stared at each other. Seishiro wanted to… Hug his friend, or… His stomach twisted nervously, but… A knock on the door broke their gaze and a moment later his sister entered the room with snacks.

The afternoon passed far too quickly for Seishiro's liking. Regretfully, at 5:30, he said he had to be getting home. His friend nodded in a sad, but understanding way and helped him gather his things. Seishiro felt cold dread creep into his body. He _really_ didn't want to go home. He knew he had to be there for his mother, be brave and protect her. However, he couldn't help but feel resentful as he thought about what he was walking away from. "Thanks for having me," he said, rather formally as his friend and his sister walked him to the door.

"Come see us again, it was nice meeting you," she said, hugging him. The gesture took Seishiro by surprise, but he did appreciate it. "Hug your friend goodbye, what's wrong with you?" She added. Seishiro's friend smiled and hugged him too. Seishiro's breath caught in his throat and his heart throbbed in his chest.

"I'll see you tomorrow," his friend said, right in his ear, and Seishiro shivered. They broke apart.

"Yeah, see you tomorrow."

The entire walk home, Seishiro could feel the parts of his body his friend had touched pulsing as though with electricity. His stomach also kept leaping uncomfortably, and he didn't understand. The sensations weren't unpleasant, but… He turned onto Clinton Street. As he caught sight of his building, all the feelings seemed to condense into a sad, fearful weight inside his stomach. He entered his building, climbed the stairs and opened the door to his apartment.

"Where the fuck have you been?" Seishiro's fists clenched. His mother's boyfriend stood in the center of the living room, arms folded and lip curling. His mother sat on the couch, watching fearfully. "Where the fuck have you been?" Her boyfriend repeated, when Seishiro said nothing. His heart beat faster, but he stood his ground, staring determinedly back at him.

"I was at a friend's house," he replied, coldly. He slammed the door shut and dropped his schoolbag.

"Who said you could do that?" Seishiro sneered. He knew it wasn't wise to escalate fights, but the question just hit him in exactly the wrong way, especially when her boyfriend was home early from work out of nowhere. For the first time in a long time, he recovered his initial sense of indignation at this man. Who the _fuck_ did he think he was? Anger lapped at Seishiro's insides. Smart or not, he was ready.

"My _mother_ , my actual parent," he snapped.

"Seishiro!" His mother cried, softly.

"Shut up," her boyfriend told her. He returned his gaze to Seishiro and pounded his fist against his chest. " _I'm_ in charge here, you little shit, did you forget?" He took a step towards Seishiro, but he remained where he was, his vision honing in on the face he hated so much.

"Are you gonna give me another black eye?!" He asked, heat rushing up his neck. "I hope you do, then I can call the cops and get you arrested!"

"Really?" Her boyfriend asked, his voice pulsing in aggressive challenge, and Seishiro's mother let out a small, terrified noise.

"Yeah, really! Come on, hit me if you're going to, I don't care!" It was true. As long as he kept his hands off his mother, Seishiro could care less. Her boyfriend's eyes narrowed in furious disgust, and Seishiro stared back, waiting, bracing himself, but her boyfriend just turned away. Seishiro knew a split second's relief before he realized he was walking towards his bedroom again. His blood ran cold. "What the fuck?! STAY OUT OF MY ROOM!" He sprinted through his doorway in time to see his mother's boyfriend toss his pillow aside and grab Blue, old and battered and loved. "NO! PUT THAT DOWN!" Seishiro screamed, and he hated how frightened and desperate he sounded. His mother's boyfriend leered at him, then ripped the stuffed animal's head off. Seishiro watched, horrified and speechless, as her boyfriend dropped the pieces, then ground them into the floor with his foot and kicked them across the room.

"Learn some respect and this won't happen," he said, simply. "You're too old for stuffed animals anyway, I'm doing you a favor." He paused, a look of cruel satisfaction on his face. "You can stay in your room the rest of the night." He pushed passed Seishiro and slammed his door shut. Seishiro stood there, numb and horrified for a moment before he bent down, picked up the pieces of his most favorite toy and held them to his chest. In the living room, he heard his mother begin to cry. "What the fuck is that for? Stop it!" He slapped her across the face, and the sound seemed to dispel some of Seishiro's numbness.

He looked down at Blue, torn in half, and began to cry too, hating himself and his mother's boyfriend. He crawled into bed, wrapped himself in the covers and pressed Blue into his eyes, just as he'd done when he was small.

* * *

Seishiro shut his eyes tight, hearing the sound of the neck seam ripping as though it were happening all over again. At the same time, he heard the snapping of Subaru's headphones as he himself had broken them the day before. He'd broken them because he'd wanted to scare Subaru, punish him for letting someone come between them, for being led astray. He hadn't meant to lose control, he hadn't given into his anger, he was better than that!

He felt again that ominous, full body shudder that began at the back of his neck. His head swam sickeningly as he heard, over and over, seams being torn and plastic snapping.

"What the fuck is that for? Stop it!"

"Get out, come back for the rest of your things when I'm not here."

Desperate, deeply wounded sobs. Were they Setsuka's? Subaru's? His own? No, of course not!

Seishiro's stomach clenched in fear and disgust surged up his throat. He clapped his hand over his mouth and screwed up his eyes. ' _No, not again, not again!_ ' He pleaded with his body. ' _Not again!_ ' But of course, it was no good.

For a second time, Seishiro slumped back against the cold tile wall, listening to the toilet flushing. He felt again that visceral relief flood his body even as there was cold sweat on his face and his eyes were watering and his hands were shaking. He gasped for breath and cringed in disgust. His body was _forever_ betraying him and his mind had been betraying him all _fucking_ afternoon…

Seishiro wanted to cry out in frustration, but forced himself to his feet instead. He immediately felt dizzy and had to grab onto the wall for support. He shut his eyes and took deep breaths, trying desperately to refocus, to force his body to recover. If only his knees would stop trembling!

At last, the world stopped spinning. He blinked his eyes open and took a few careful steps to his sink. Keeping his eyes down to avoid looking at his reflection, Seishiro turned on the water, cupped his hands under the faucet and brought them up to his lips. He felt more relief as he swirled the cold water around in his mouth and spat it out. He placed his hands on either side of the sink and stared into it. He finally seemed to be recovering, and with his recovery came his anger, strengthening and validating.

He wasn't like Setsuka's disgusting, pathetic boyfriend. After all, he never put his hands on Subaru. ' _And he should be fucking grateful_ ,' he thought, viciously. ' _You can't complain about headphones when I could have given you a black eye, or-_ ' His stomach lurched and he gripped the sides of the sink more tightly. He would never put his hands on Subaru. He had lost control, that fact remained inescapable, but it was just a brief moment of weakness brought on by Subaru's betrayal, because he'd let someone come between them, just as Setsuka had let countless people into their relationship.

Seishiro's grip on the sink was so tight his knuckles were white. He was still furious with Subaru, but his anger was now tainted by disgust and unpleasant memories. He shouldn't have broken Subaru's headphones. His words should have been enough. But that was the whole point! His words had stopped being enough. Subaru had stopped listening. Seishiro swallowed. When Subaru came back, which he would, would he still be immune to his words?

Seishiro felt a prickling on the back of his neck, almost as though he were being watched. He shuddered as he shut off the water, straightened up and walked through his bedroom, then down the hall to his kitchen. The prickling feeling persisted and his heart pounded against his ribs. He pulled a glass out of the cabinet, filled it with water from the sink and drank it slowly. Of course his words would be enough, and even if they weren't, withdrawing his touch would work. It was the exact opposite of Setsuka's boyfriend's actions, and it would always affect Subaru, even if he were led astray for a moment.

Seishiro's hand began to shake violently and he set his glass on the counter before he spilled anything. What was wrong with him today? Another unpleasant shudder began at the base of his skull and crept outwards, wrapping itself around his stomach, heart and lungs.

"What's wrong with you?!"

"Why are you always so-"

"What the fuck?!"

Seishiro had been asked these questions by so many people. Setsuka, guys he'd fucked, Subaru, himself… He still had no answer, not that he owed one to anybody. He was what he was, and yet all these people who said they loved him wanted him to be something different.

"Act normal, okay?"

Seishiro emptied his glass and slammed it back down on the counter. He then stared at the tiles behind the sink, breathing hard through his nose. He'd spent a great deal of his life taking Setsuka's rage, her resentment and hurtful words. She had a whole repertoire of confusing, fear-inducing things she'd say to him, the most common being "What's wrong with you?" followed by "I love you." Of course, when Setsuka said "I love you," the meaning was always dependent on the context. At least when Subaru said it, it was consistent. The resentment inside Seishiro suddenly flash heated. Had she ever actually known what she was saying? She was so _fucking_ stupid.

Righteous anger surged in his chest. "I love you," because I can use you to get back at your father. "I love you," except when you get in the way of me and whichever boyfriend. "I love you," so you can't ever leave me. "I love you," but why did you call 911? The anger seared Seishiro's nerves, burning away some of his resistance to the memories. The next part wasn't as painful, anyway, because he'd been right, and she should have headed him, even though his words meant nothing to her.

The day after his mother's boyfriend had- Seishiro shuddered. After his mother's boyfriend had told him to "learn some respect," his mother had taken the day off work. She had a cut lip and couldn't hide it with make up, or maybe she just couldn't be bothered. Seishiro had gotten ready for school as usual and found her sitting on the couch, smoking and staring straight ahead with glazed eyes. "Seishiro, will you please stay here today?" She asked, not looking at him.

"I have school," he reminded her.

"I know, but… You can miss a day, can't you?" Seishiro stared at his mother, looking older than he'd ever seen her, and sighed. He hadn't finished all the homework due today anyway. Last night, he'd cried himself to sleep and woken up, hungry and still exhausted, at sunrise.

"I guess." She turned to look at him, and the relief in her face made his heart ache. She put out her cigarette.

"Come here." She heaved herself off the couch, took him by the arm and led him into her bedroom. She climbed back into bed. "Come here," she repeated. Seishiro swallowed and lay down beside her, just as he had done when he was small. Like those other times, he felt that bubble of safety rise up between them, then surround them. He lay on his back, and his mother was on her side, staring at him. She reached out and began to tuck his hair gently behind his ears. Seishiro closed his eyes and shifted uncomfortably. "You look more and more like him every day," she whispered. She inched forward and lay her head across his chest. He stiffened underneath her and screwed up his eyes, his heart throbbing. "I love you, Seishiro," she breathed.

Seishiro shuddered. No. He wanted to get up and go to school. He opened his eyes and looked down at his mother. Her eyes were closed and her long black hair fell gracefully around her. She seemed simultaneously like a small child and an old lady, and Seishiro felt a weird rush of revulsion as well as a desire to protect her. He really wanted to get up, but he couldn't disturb her. He stared up at the ceiling, feeing numb and lost.

Seishiro may have fallen asleep, he didn't know, but the next thing he was aware of was, "SETSUKA!" She and Seishiro sat up at once. The front door slammed. "SETSUKA!" She sprang out of bed and ran into the living room. Seishiro followed her, his heart pounding, ready for the fight.

His mother's boyfriend stood in the living room, his face _livid_ , clutching a ripped envelope in his hand. His mother looked fearfully between the envelope and his face, utterly perplexed. "What…?" She said, in a small voice. Her boyfriend laughed humorlessly and advanced on her.

"What the fuck is this?!" He demanded, shoving the envelope in her face.

"I don't-" She began, looking terrified, but then understanding seemed to melt away any last semblance of composure. She clapped her hands to her mouth and began to cry. "How did you get into the mailbox?" Was all she managed to ask. Her boyfriend threw the envelope at her. She shuddered as it hit her in the face, then fell lightly to the floor. Seishiro realized what it was: the check his father sent every month to keep his mother quiet about his existence. "Please!" She cried, tears pouring down her face. "I need the money to survive, it's-" Her boyfriend seized a fistful of her hair and pulled her right up close to him.

"NO!" Seishiro sprinted forward, but his mother's boyfriend knocked him away with the back of his hand. Seishiro cried out and fell over, his head spinning. His mother's boyfriend pulled her even closer, baring his teeth and screaming right in her face. She kept her eyes shut tight, wincing and crying.

"HOW MANY MEN SEND YOU MONEY I DON'T KNOW ABOUT?" He shook her violently and she cried out in pain. "HUH? YOU FUCKING WHORE?!"

"NONE! I SWEAR IT'S NOT-" He threw her to the ground and took a step towards her. She screamed and tried to crawl away, but he kicked her hard in the ribs. Seishiro scrambled to his feet and forced himself between them.

"KEEP YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF HER!" He screamed, blood pounding in his ears. Her boyfriend's lip curled, and it ignited the rage inside Seishiro to a blazing inferno. He spat in her boyfriend's face. He stared, stunned at Seishiro for a split second, then seized him by the throat and slammed him up against the wall. The back of his head smacked into it and he immediately felt dizzy. He gasped for breath, tears leaking from his eyes. Her boyfriend was screaming, but Seishiro had no idea what he was saying. All he knew was hot breath in his face and total, all consuming fear and rage.

"SEISHIRO! NO! PUT HIM DOWN!" His mother's scream seemed to reach him, forcing his ears open.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Her boyfriend screamed. Seishiro kicked out and his foot hit his soft, doughy belly. He cried out and released Seishiro, who collapsed onto the floor, gasping and crying. His mother was back on her feet, screaming at the top of her voice, and her boyfriend faced her again. "SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

Seishiro scrambled to his feet, and as he sprinted down the hallway he heard his mother scream as she got punched in the face. The sound echoed in his entire body, but he didn't look back. He ran into his mother's bedroom, slammed the door and locked it. He seized the phone from the bedside table and dialed 911, still gasping and listening to his mother and her boyfriend screaming. "911, what is your emergency?"

"Help me, please! My mother's boyfriend is beating her, my address is 28-30 Clinton Street, apartment 3F!"

"Okay does he have weapons?" Seishiro's blood ran cold.

"I don't think so but please! He's beating her and he tried to strangle me, send someone!" Seishiro heard his mother's boyfriend storm down the hall and knew a moment of utter terror as he tried to force the door open.

"OPEN THE DOOR!" Seishiro's entire body was shaking.

"The police are on their way," the dispatcher told Seishiro. "Do _not_ open the door." Seishiro gripped the phone as though it were a lifeline, listening to the doorknob rattling, the banging, the death threats. "Whatever he tells you, do _not_ open the door."

"I'LL KILL YOU! BOTH OF YOU!"

"Do _not_ open the door."

"POLICE! GET ON THE GROUND! GET ON THE GROUND!"

"Thank you…" Seishiro whispered to the dispatcher. She hung up, but Seishiro clutched the phone, listening to the fight outside the door. His mother's boyfriend kept screaming even though the police were telling him to stop resisting. Then, finally, the unmistakable sound of handcuffs clicking into place.

"Get up, you're coming with us." Seishiro heard him being led away and a police officer reading him his rights. A few moments of relative calm followed. Seishiro hung up the phone, his ears ringing, then jumped at a soft knock on the door.

"Seishiro?" It was an unfamiliar woman's voice. "Seishiro, I'm a police officer, will you please open the door?" Seishiro hesitated. "It's all right, he's been taken away. It's safe to come out." Seishiro swallowed, then approached the door and unlocked it. He opened it to find a middle-aged woman in uniform, sturdy and reassuring. "Thank you," she said. "We're going to take you and your mom to the hospital, okay?"

"I'm not hurt," Seishiro said, dully. A sense of numbness had set in throughout his body and mind. He was aware he was breathing, but that was about it.

"I know, but we have to make sure, okay?" He just nodded. She led him out of the apartment and down the stairs. Seishiro's neighbors were all standing in their doorways, looking around, fearful and curious. Outside, there were police cars with their lights flashing red and blue. However, it only registered dimly to Seishiro as the policewoman helped him up into the back of the ambulance. The doors slammed shut, and they were off, sirens blaring at half their usual volume.

Seishiro couldn't remember much after that. It was as though time would rush past, then stop abruptly in a freeze frame or random slew of images. He remembered the screech of the ambulance siren, the bright lights of the hospital, the din of the emergency room. He remembered being stuck alone on an examination table, then doctors and nurses coming in. They stripped him to his underwear and poked and prodded him before allowing police officers to photograph the bruises on his face and neck. Seishiro was dimly aware of feeling exposed, but he didn't say anything to anyone until a police officer interviewed him.

"Has he done this before?"

"Yes."

"Your mom has broken ribs, has he hurt her that badly before?"

"No, but he's been hitting her for a while."

Seishiro wondered vaguely where his mother was, but his mind was too numb, too stuck, to be really curious.

They ended up spending the night in the hospital "for observation." A nurse with a kind face led him up to a room at the end of a quiet ward and gave him a pair of pajamas that were slightly too big. He climbed up into the bed and stared straight ahead. Another nurse came in to give him something "to help him sleep," and bustled around, smoothing his bedcovers and adjusting his pillows. Seishiro swallowed the pill with some water and continued to look straight ahead, waiting for something to happen.

He wasn't aware of falling asleep, or even being tired. It was as though his body and mind had switched off, then switched back on. Once again, he was staring straight ahead in a hospital room, but it was daytime and his vision was blurry. He squinted around for his glasses, found them on the plastic tray attached to his bed and put them on. The room came into focus, but his mind was still fuzzy. He swallowed and sighed heavily, memories of the night before coming back to him in painful pieces, fighting through the fog in his brain.

A nurse poked her head around the door, then entered, carrying a breakfast tray. "Good morning," she said, quietly, placing it in front of him. He just stared at it, feeling too groggy and queasy to even think of eating. "Not feeling well?" The nurse asked, kindly. Seishiro said nothing. "I need to check your vital signs, okay?" He nodded, and she did so, but her hands were soft and tender, and it seemed to reach him, make him feel more aware. She scribbled on a clipboard, then sat on a chair beside him until a doctor came in, looked at her notes, nodded and left. "You can go home soon," the nurse said, her voice still soft and kind. "Your mom will be in here in a few minutes, I'll let you get dressed."

The nurse left the room, and Seishiro got up, redressed and sat on the edge of his bed, watching the door. A few minutes passed, and he looked at the breakfast tray. More for something to do than because he wanted anything, he reached for the plastic container of juice, peeled back the foil cover and drank it. It didn't have much flavor, but the sour taste seemed to revive him further.

Eventually, his mother appeared in the doorway, followed by a woman he didn't know. His mother crossed the room and fell into Seishiro's arms, hugging him as tightly as she could. Seishiro clung to the back of her shirt, relief flooding his insides, though his eyes remained fixed on the other woman, still framed in the doorway. She was holding a stack of folders in one hand and had the other pressed to her chest. She had a simpering smile on her face that made Seishiro's stomach lurch uncomfortably.

His mother let go of him and sat beside him on the bed. She then reached for his hand and held it in both her own. "Hi, Seishiro," the other woman said, extending her hand. Seishiro shook it. "I'm a social worker," she continued. Seishiro just nodded, not sure he understood. "Last night was pretty scary, wasn't it?" Seishiro just stared at her, and his stomach lurched uncomfortably again. "I'm going to be checking up on you guys for a while, okay?" She persisted. "Everything's going to be fine, but if you need anyone to talk to, I'm here, all right?" Seishiro's stomach was twisting. "I care about you and your mom, you know. Everything will be fine." Seishiro swallowed.

"You see, Seishiro?" His mother said, quietly, squeezing his hand. He turned to look at her.

"I think I'm gonna throw up."

An hour or so later, Seishiro and his mother were in a cab back to their apartment. Seishiro leaned his head against the grimy window, finally feeling present again. However, as the numbness faded, he became aware of all the pain in his body, mind and heart.

At last, they were back outside their building. It was a truly beautiful day. Sunlight fell through the leaves of the skimpy trees that lined their street, casting a warm, soft light over the garbage and graffiti. Seishiro looked around, and felt for the first time that he really didn't belong here. Was this really his world? Was this actually where he'd come from? This tiny, dirty, dangerous corner of New York City where no one could pronounce his name?

Seishiro let out a shaky exhale and followed his mother into their building. He'd lived his whole life here. His neighbors were born here and would most likely die here. The overhead light that illuminated the dirty hallway was flickering. Seishiro felt an unpleasant tingling on the back of his neck as though he were being watched, even though his neighbors all had their doors closed. He could still see their faces from the night before, morbidly curious, unable to look away from the sick, shameful sight. Seishiro flushed and looked down at the filthy, sticky floor and followed his mother up the stairs. She dug in her purse for her keys, wincing as the movement disturbed her ribs, and let them into the apartment.

All was quiet and still, just as they'd left it. Seishiro had expected to see the place in total disarray, things broken and knocked over, but it was undisturbed. He stood in his living room, wishing he could return to that state of numbness and unreality, but he was here, he was present, and he felt more out of place than ever. He was used to not belonging, but it was different now. He didn't want to be here. This wasn't what he wanted or who he wanted to be.

He turned and watched his mother sit down on the couch, then extract the bottles of pills she'd gotten from the doctor and arrange them on the coffee table. She sighed, reached for her cigarettes and lit up. She looked exhausted as she exhaled, older and wearier than Seishiro had never seen her, and he felt a sudden, strange sense of loss. He wanted to say something to her, he wanted to reach her, but he had no idea how.

Cautiously, he approached her and sat down beside her. She just smoked her cigarette, and they said nothing, music coming from their neighbor's apartment filling the space. At last, his mother turned to him. Seishiro met her gaze, but her expression was unreadable. His heart began to race. "Are you happy, now?" She asked. Seishiro just stared at her, perplexed. "He's gone, isn't that what you wanted?" She sounded both angry and on the verge of tears, and Seishiro had no idea what to do.

"What…?"

"You always do this!" She cried. "Every time I try dating someone you get in my way! I'm doing this for _us_ , so that you can have a father, don't you understand?!" Seishiro clenched his fists, anger surging alarmingly inside him.

"No, _you_ don't understand!" He snapped back. "You didn't need any of those guys, you have me!"

"You're my son, Seishiro, not-"

"Yeah, don't _fucking_ remind me!"

"Don't you swear at me!" She drew her hand back and slapped him hard across the face, but the pain didn't even register. He just stared at her with narrowed eyes, unflinching and fearless.

"Are you done?" He asked her, coldly. She opened her mouth, but Seishiro cut across her. "Your _boyfriend_ gave me a black eye and tried to strangle me-" his voice broke, but he swallowed and recovered himself. "You think that's going to do anything?!"

"You didn't have to call the police!" His mother snapped. She was curling the fingers of the hand with which she'd slapped him, angry tears beginning in her eyes. Seishiro stood up, blood pounding in his ears and righteous anger and pain searing his nerves.

"SO WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO?!" He screamed, his chest heaving. His mother's face twisted in furious anguish.

"GO TO YOUR ROOM!" She screamed, tears pouring down her face. "JUST GO AWAY, SEISHIRO!"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?! You wish I was dead!"

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" Seishiro's fists were clenched so tightly his fingernails dug into his palms.

"I wish I _was_ dead! Then no one would be here to protect you! Then your next boyfriend could kill you and you'd deserve it!" His mother's eyes widened, and her lip trembled for a moment before she fell forward, clutching her ribs and crying without restraint. Seishiro just watched, vindictive fury burning inside him, fueling him. "I hate you! I can't wait to be out of here!" Shaking in rage and disgust, Seishiro stormed into his room and slammed the door. He breathed deeply through his nose, anger still coursing through him. He wanted to vent his feelings, break and hurt. He looked around, and knew a surge of reckless excitement as his eyes found the computer his mother's boyfriend had bought him in a pathetic attempt to win his affection and trust.

Seishiro climbed up onto his bed and forced his window open. He then rushed back across the room and unplugged the computer and all its attachments. He lifted the monitor, and though it was huge and cumbersome and his arms shook under its weight, he didn't even notice. He got into his bed on his knees and heaved the monitor onto the window ledge. With one last, deeply gratifying surge of vengeance, Seishiro pushed the monitor out the window. It fell three floors and crashed onto the concrete bottom of the airshaft. Seishiro looked out, feeling deeply satisfied at the sparks and cracked screen, then returned to his desk for the tower and keyboard.

Finally, he slammed his window shut again and sat down on his bed, his heart pounding. He stayed there for a long time, waiting to regain control of himself. However, all that happened was he felt the same sense of loss he'd felt in his living room. Seishiro had no idea who or what he was grieving, but he would always remember this moment as a death, as an irreversible, final loss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goodness, that was an odyssey. Is everyone surviving? Ish? I'll take it.
> 
> I think of reviews when I summon my kekkai, leave me some!


	3. 03

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning good morning! Happy Thursday!
> 
> How's everybody doing, good? Recovered from the last chapter? I hope so, because truthfully I don't think I am. This chapter is, I don't want to say better or worse, but it's definitely a different flavor of awful. It was certainly challenging to write, but for completely different reasons, so I'll be very curious what all of you think!
> 
> To that end, this chapter is the halfway point, so I'd like to thank every single one of you who has read this story, whether you loved it or hated it, left me comments, reviews or kudos or not. It means the world to me, you guys are all fantastic!
> 
> Anyway, let me be quiet. Chapter 3, let's go!
> 
> CONTENT WARNING: This chapter contains graphic depictions of statutory rape and exploitative sex with a minor.

Seishiro stared at the tile backsplash behind his sink, waiting for the memories to drain away. He had to give his thirteen-year-old self credit, he thought. He'd lost his mother that day, even though it would be another few years before he'd completely stop speaking to her.

Although he'd known it on some level for years, that fight made it explicit: everything Setsuka had told him about him being her top priority, of her loving him more than anyone else, was a total lie. She had taken care of him out of necessity, then depended on him, that was all. Seishiro wondered if she ever saw him as a person, or just "my son." His chest constricted and he shuddered, a strange burning in his throat. She'd always refer to him that way, as though he didn't have a name, as though he only existed as he related to her. She was so _fucking_ self-absorbed. Seishiro remembered, suddenly, as though his brain were switching gears, how Subaru had also agonized over what to call him.

"Is boyfriend okay? Or is partner better? Lover doesn't feel right…" He mused, right after they'd agreed to "make it official."

"Just call me by my name, Subaru," he replied, nonplussed. Subaru smiled.

"Well, yes, but when I'm talking _about_ you to other people who don't know you," he explained. The words stirred something in Seishiro. He appreciated that Subaru had actually asked, rather than assigning him a title the way his mother had, but also… Had anyone else ever thought of him this way? Most of his, for want of a better term, relationships, had to be kept a secret and were exclusively sexual. This title was powerful, and it might have been unpleasant, but he liked all the sway it held for Subaru. He reflected further that now he'd actually have something to tell people at work when they asked about his personal life.

Times had changed, that was for sure.

He looked at Subaru, so giving, so devoted, so beautiful. "Boyfriend is fine," He said, rather more quietly than he'd intended, but Subaru's face was alight with pleasure. He kissed Seishiro, smiling against his lips.

"Boyfriend it is."

* * *

Seishiro's chest constricted further. That title had supposedly meant so much to Subaru, and he'd thrown it away. Thrown it away for some punk ass kid he'd met at a party. Did they already have titles? Had Subaru agonized over what to call him too?

Seishiro's throat burned again and he swallowed. Subaru had told him constantly how much he loved him, how special he was, how he was different from anyone else he'd ever met. Was Seishiro wrong to believe him? No, of course not! Subaru was so sincere, at least at first; things had only changed because he'd met Kamui. Even then, Subaru knew better than to lie to him. Of course, even if Subaru were telling the truth, Seishiro was always meticulous about what he let him see, how could he really know anything?

Seishiro had learned that secrecy early on, because men interested in him only saw him as what they wanted anyway: a means of getting back at someone I love, a means of expressing my sexuality without my wife finding out, a means of experiencing some fantasy I have. He hadn't minded, really. It was less awful being strange and out of place if it made him desirable.

Subaru had been different, though. He had actually seemed to value him for being Seishiro Sakurazuka, even before he was "the guy I'm seeing" or "my boyfriend," even if the Seishiro Sakurazuka he knew was only what he had been allowed to see.

Seishiro's throat burned again, but he shook his head, trying to stay focused. Maybe that was what had drawn him to Subaru, had kept his interest even after he'd gotten what he wanted. Subaru was so open, willing and devoted and Seishiro was used to secrecy, resistance and guilt. Although, he couldn't really be surprised considering he'd spent most of his late adolescence and twenties sleeping with closeted married men. It wasn't like he had other options, though: he couldn't seek people out at school or at work. He wasn't worried about outing himself, necessarily, but he didn't want to mix school or work and sex.

That had also been because of the time. Twenty years ago, he wouldn't have been able to talk about "his boyfriend" at work, let alone bring him to parties and introduce him as such. Subaru was too young to really understand this and how much easier he had it. He was lucky that Seishiro could take him out and do all those nice things for him without it arousing suspicion. Subaru always appreciated it, though, that was something. He was easily overwhelmed by nice places and gestures, and Seishiro had liked all of his praise, recognition and appreciation. Seishiro wasn't usually so easily swayed, but it had been different with Subaru. Everything was different with Subaru. Seishiro had expected it to be a one-night stand, but for some reason he'd actually replied to the texts Subaru had sent him afterwards, even once he was back in New York.

Subaru had asked if he was coming back, and Seishiro had actually told him. He remembered how excited Subaru had seemed as they'd made plans to meet up. He assumed Subaru would come to his hotel room, they'd fuck and he'd leave. However, he ended up staying over, then spending every night of his stay with him. Seishiro hadn't minded. In fact, he started to like it. This young, gorgeous person waiting for him was a surprisingly nice change from coming home to his empty apartment every night.

"That was _amazing_ …" Subaru sighed. He was lying on his back, crisp white linens draped over him, and looking up at Seishiro with an exultant expression. Seishiro kissed him, then offered him a drag from his cigarette, which he accepted gratefully. Seishiro didn't usually care what people had to say about his performance, but he was pleased to hear Subaru's praise.

"Amazing?" He asked, wanting more. Subaru closed his eyes and smiled softly.

"It's so good, I-" he opened his eyes and looked meaningfully at Seishiro. "It's the best sex I've ever had." He blushed furiously, and Seishiro tilted his head to the side.

"Oh?" Subaru nodded. Seishiro smiled, knowing a most pleasurable feeling of power.

"I, I hope it's good for you, too," Subaru continued, his blush deepening. Seishiro considered him: pale skin illuminated by the soft rosy light from the bedside table lamp, purple bruises on his chest and shoulders, black hair, bright green eyes…

"I really like fucking you," Seishiro told him, exhaling smoke. Subaru laughed rather embarrassedly, but he was obviously pleased. He inched closer to Seishiro and tentatively ran his fingers up and down his arm.

* * *

Seishiro wondered for the first time if what Subaru had said was true. What Seishiro had said was true; he liked it a lot. Subaru would let him do pretty much anything he wanted, and even when he knew he was being rough or selfish, Subaru would moan and beg for more. He liked having someone else take control, even if they weren't going out of their way to please him. Seishiro didn't really understand the appeal, but he'd certainly been with people like that.

In spite of himself, Seishiro wondered how sex would work between Subaru and Kamui. Neither of them would top, he could tell, and there was no way Kamui could hold all the power the way Seishiro did. He may have led Subaru astray, but he wouldn't be able to keep him or satisfy him. Seishiro's lip curled. Rather spitefully he imagined them together, in an unmade bed in some tiny apartment, trying to consummate their fling. Unless they'd… The momentary bitter satisfaction evaporated. No. Never. Subaru wouldn't _dare_. Seishiro had floated the idea, certainly, after Subaru had neglected to mention all the time he was spending with Kamui and his friends. However, he didn't actually think he'd try anything. Even if Kamui instigated something, Subaru would have refused him. Subaru was too loyal. He always had been.

"I know we aren't official or anything," Subaru had said, one night over Facetime. Seishiro had returned to New York after Subaru had called him the best sex of his life, and they'd been texting back and forth almost every day, then Facetiming a few nights a week. It was nice, actually, lying in bed talking to Subaru for a while before going to sleep. Seishiro found himself looking forward to it, though it had been weird at first.

"Yes?" Seishiro asked, watching Subaru bite his lip through the phone screen.

"But I won't see anyone else. I can't imagine it, honestly." Seishiro narrowed his eyes.

"I didn't ask you to do that."

"I know, it's my choice," Subaru replied, very seriously. They paused, staring hard at each other hard through the phone. Subaru was in bed too, but it was early morning in Tokyo. Sunlight was pouring through his window, lighting up his fine features. "I'm counting down the days until you come back here," he continued, his eyes shining. "I, I can't wait…" Seishiro smiled.

"What are you most excited for?" Subaru flushed, chewing on his lower lip.

"Everything."

"Everything?" Subaru nodded. Seishiro's lip curled. "Tell me what you're most excited for, Subaru." Subaru shivered slightly, and Seishiro was already getting excited in spite of himself. Subaru really was amazing.

"I," he began, apparently gathering his strength, his blush deepening. "I… I can't stop thinking about you inside of me," he said. Seishiro smiled.

"Really?" Subaru nodded.

"Like last time, when you went in really deep…" He was flushed in his neck and chest now, and Seishiro could tell he was turned on.

"You liked that, didn't you?" He asked, very quietly. Again, Subaru nodded. "You like when I fuck you deep, Subaru?" Subaru shut his eyes tight and gasped softly.

"Yes!" He replied in a constricted voice. He opened his eyes and stared at Seishiro through the phone screen. Seishiro was completely hard now and his heart was beating against his ribs. He hadn't expected this, but he _liked_ it.

"Are you hard now, thinking about it?" He asked, even though he could tell he was just from his expression. Subaru swallowed and nodded. "Show me." Subaru's eyes widened, but he nodded again and put his phone down. For a moment, Seishiro saw only his bedroom ceiling and heard a rustling of blankets and clothes. Subaru picked up his phone again and switched the camera view. Now Seishiro was staring between Subaru's legs, his pants pulled halfway down his thighs and erection straining against his underwear.

Seishiro let out a soft noise of satisfaction, remembering how that would all feel in his hand. Soft fabric, softer skin and hard erection twitching as it was teased mercilessly. The camera switched back to Subaru's face. He was blushing harder than ever, but his expression was so desperate. "You want to touch yourself, don't you?" Seishiro asked in barely more than a whisper. Subaru shivered.

"Is… Is that okay?" Seishiro felt his own erection twitch.

"I want to watch." Subaru let out a soft, excited gasp, then nodded. The camera view switched again. Seishiro watched, transfixed, as Subaru's long, slender fingers reached into his underwear, wrapped around his erection and brought it out for him to see. He began pleasing himself in quick, deliberate strokes, and Seishiro heard his soft groan. ' _Fuck_ ,' he thought, finding this way more exciting than made sense. His own erection was asking to be touched, but he ignored it. He was back in Tokyo in two weeks; he could wait, or he could just find someone here to fuck, but-

"Seishiro, I'm close!" Seishiro took a deep breath in.

"Come for me, Subaru." Subaru gasped and came all over himself with a soft groan. Seishiro watched his belly move up and down with his breath, his hand forcing out the last few drops… "Let me see your face." Subaru switched the camera again. He looked slightly dazed, and he was blushing more deeply than ever, but he smiled at Seishiro.

"I've never done that before," he said, quietly. "On video, I mean." Seishiro's lip curled.

"I like it, do it more for me." Subaru laughed, looking very pleased with himself. Seishiro watched him clean up, his own erection beginning to deflate.

"You've been a lot of firsts for me," Subaru said, after a minute or so.

"Have I?" Subaru nodded.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Yes."

"Does that… Bother you?" Seishiro raised his eyebrows.

"No, should it?" Subaru shifted uncomfortably.

"I don't know, I just… I hope you like what I can offer you, even though it's not much." Seishiro's heart throbbed suddenly, and he felt both impatient and pleased, it was strange.

"You know I do," he replied, and Subaru smiled gratefully. "Otherwise I wouldn't still be doing this."

* * *

Seishiro sighed heavily. He hadn't been lying. Something had kept him interested, and it was the first time in a long time he had found himself wanting more and going out of his way to get it. He was used to just going in, getting what he needed and leaving again, be it an orgasm, his sense of control or pure, shameless spite.

"We shouldn't be doing this…"

"Do you top, by any chance?"

"Can, can we go again?"

Seishiro felt a rush of disgust.

"What was your first time like? If that's okay to ask…"

"It was with one of my friends from school. I was fifteen."

Subaru had accepted the story, even though all that was true was Seishiro's age at the time. There again was Subaru wanting to know about things Seishiro had no interest in remembering, let alone discussing. He felt another rush of anger at Subaru, for asking, for trying to leave, for making him remember. "One of my friends from school." He'd said that because, even now, even though it was utterly pathetic, he wished it were true. His friend who had shown him the sci-fi series, who had invited him over and been so kind to him, had been Seishiro's first real crush, though he hadn't recognized it for what it was at the time. Not that it mattered; he and his family moved to New Jersey after the school year had ended. Although it had hurt, Seishiro hadn't been entirely sorry about it.

"I'm gonna miss you, Seishiro," his friend had told him, as they stood facing each other in front of their school on the last day before summer break. Seishiro didn't trust himself to speak, so he just nodded. His friend hugged him goodbye, and Seishiro's heart throbbed painfully in his chest. They let go and stared at each other. Seishiro took in his friend's features one last time: his green eyes, his soft smile, he wanted to… But his friend just sighed sadly and turned away, disappearing into the crowd, leaving Seishiro completely alone, just as Subaru had done that very morning. Of course, Subaru would come back, where as Seishiro had no idea what had happened to his friend.

He wondered, fleetingly, if his friend had been aware of his feelings even when Seishiro wasn't himself, if they really could have… It didn't matter. You couldn't change the past with your thoughts even if you reworked your memories.

However, saying he lost his virginity to a friend who had cared about him and for whom he'd actually had feelings sounded so much nicer than the truth. He imagined telling Subaru, "I spent a year of my life fantasizing about kissing this friend I'd never see again, then realized I liked all guys, not just him, but had no idea what to do about it. Then my mother-" Seishiro felt hot disgust rise up inside him as he remembered. Subaru definitely wouldn't have been able to handle it.

Seishiro remembered the months between his friend leaving and his first time as a weird blur from which he could only pick out random scenes, like a damaged reel of film.

After his friend left, Seishiro retreated into himself and tried to stay cocooned in his numbness as much as possible. Setsuka had started working more hours again, out of necessity and probably to avoid him, so he was alone a lot. He didn't mind, though. They barely spoke to each other, and when they did it was an argument. The only moments of solidarity they had were when the social worker they'd met in the hospital came to call. They both hated her, though they couldn't really express it.

"Act normal, okay?" Setsuka told him the first week she was due to arrive, taking a resigned drag from her cigarette. "I don't need this bitch asking questions." Seishiro just rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, whatever."

Every month the social worker would show up to interrogate them, and Seishiro and his mother would sit side by side on the couch, answering her politely with contempt boiling inside them.

"Do you have any plans for the summer, Seishiro?" She asked on her first visit.

"No."

"Do you know where you'd like to go to high school?"

"No." The social worker smiled at him in what she must have imagined was a kind, sincere way.

"You know, Seishiro, if you're still thinking a lot about what happened, you can talk to me. I'm a psychotherapist-"

"Seishiro doesn't need that," Setsuka interrupted. "Do you?"

"No." Truthfully, Seishiro didn't care either way. He knew it would just be more of whichever adult asking him questions he'd refuse to answer. The social worker put on a look of concern, an "I care!" expression that was so obviously only skin deep.

"It will help you to talk, you know," she said, and Seishiro found her tone deeply condescending. He didn't want to talk about any of it. He didn't want to remember or feel any part of it ever again. How would talking do him any good? However, he just nodded politely, and fortunately she hadn't pressed the issue after that.

Aside from her visits, Seishiro mostly kept to his room. He could lie in bed for hours at a time, staring up at his ceiling or reading or sleeping, listening to the silence or whatever noises his neighbors were making. However, as summer descended, thick and hot and heavy over the city, it got so hot in his apartment that Seishiro had to get outside for fresh air.

One day in July, in the middle of a brutal heat wave, Seishiro left his apartment in the afternoon and wandered around for hours. He moved steadily uptown and to the west side and found himself in much nicer parts of the city. He'd usually find these neighborhoods intimidating, but he felt safely cocooned in his numbness. Everyone was ignoring him anyway; it was too hot to pay attention to people you didn't know. Seishiro just kept walking, moving through the sea of people, aware of his surroundings but not engaging with them. It was strangely freeing. No one up here knew who he was and no one cared. He could be totally invisible, stand strong in his strangeness.

Eventually, he found himself in Washington Square Park, eating pizza he'd bought from some hole in the wall on MacDougal Street. A soft breeze blew through the park, though it did little to disturb the miasma of heat trapped by the surrounding NYU buildings and luxurious townhouses.

Seishiro chose a bench on the perimeter of the park, eating his pizza and staring about in discreet interest. Even in the heat, the park was crowded: tourists taking photos with the arch, homeless people asleep on benches and NYU summer program students and professors. Two women, a few years younger than Setsuka, by the look of them, walked past him slowly with their small children. One of them, with long, shiny black hair, had her young son on her shoulders and was speaking to him playfully. The little boy kept saying, "No! No. No no no," which made his mother laugh. She noticed Seishiro and smiled a powerful smile. He flushed and looked away, though he watched them go out of the corner of his eye, a sudden ache in his chest.

He sighed heavily and returned to his pizza. He was used to being invisible, then being met with confusion and derision when he was noticed. This woman, though, had smiled, just like that older boy in the library, like his long gone friend, like his English teacher. Their smiles discomposed him and made him feel alone as nothing else could. He stared moodily ahead of him, watching two scholarly looking men, sweating in full suits, debating as they headed towards the huge red building Seishiro knew to be the library.

All of a sudden, his English teacher's words came back to him from some deep corner of his memory. "School is a good way out, Seishiro." Had she known about his mother's boyfriend? Or were his and his mother's circumstances sad enough on their own? ' _Yes_ ,' Seishiro thought at once, taking himself by surprise. Guilt twisted his stomach, though at the same time he knew he was correct. He'd known it since he and his mother had come back from the hospital, when Seishiro had had that moment of total alienation and disconnection.

Before his mother's boyfriend had come into the picture, Seishiro would never have considered leaving her. She needed him, as he was constantly reminded, and for so long he had wanted to protect her, but…

Anger flared in his chest. Things had changed. "Then your next boyfriend could kill you and you'd deserve it!" He'd said that to her, and he'd meant it. She'd always cared more for them than for Seishiro anyway. He bit into his pizza, anger still bubbling inside him. If he left, she'd finally be free to do what she wanted. Seishiro had also told her he wished he were dead. That would be even more final than just leaving. He shuddered slightly, biting into the hard crust, the flour dry and jarring on his tongue.

Death would certainly be faster than waiting to leave for college, and Seishiro was impatient. However, if he died, Setsuka would get more sympathy she didn't deserve. Wasn't that the worst thing to happen, losing a child? Seishiro didn't want to give her the satisfaction. If he just got into a good school, got a job and moved away, which was supposed to be the natural progression of life, even one as strange and fucked up as his own, no one would question it. People would even be happy for Setsuka, and she'd be suffering, but she wouldn't be able to say so.

Seishiro imagined telling her, "I've been accepted to college and I'm leaving and never coming back, take care." He saw her shock, her fear, her tears, and knew a surge of vindictive pleasure. Yes, this would be the better way. However, as he looked around the park, doubt seeped into the vision, blotting and smearing it. Could he even get in anywhere? And if he did, could he assimilate, or remain sufficiently invisible? He tried to imagine himself as one of these students or professors, wearing nice clothes and having important conversations. It was almost there. He didn't really like the idea of himself as a scholar, though.

"You're smart, Seishiro, don't waste it." He knew he was smart. He had always been smart, but he didn't feel drawn to the sciences or medicine. Besides, his father had been a surgeon, he knew. He narrowed his eyes, recalling again that vision of himself grown up in his nice suit with lots of money and prestige, people admiring and valuing him but remaining at a safe distance. How would he get there?

The sun set, draping Washington Square Park in a diffuse, blue light, then fading to a rich black despite the light pollution. Seishiro got off his bench and shoved the greasy paper plate into the nearest overflowing trashcan. Despite NYU's presence and the surrounding luxury, Washington Square Park still got scary at night.

Seishiro proceeded southeast, his dream of leaving his mother for affluence taking a firm, spiteful root in his head. When school started again in September, he'd ask his English teacher about that college prep school. He had the distinct impression she'd help him get in. Then he'd work hard for four years, get into a good college and escape.

On Bleecker Street, Seishiro caught sight of two men, probably in their early twenties, holding hands as they walked. He blushed, watching them discreetly until they turned a corner.

* * *

Seishiro sighed heavily and pushed himself away from his counter to lean against his refrigerator. He stared down at his feet, the next eighteen months rushing past. Either the memories weren't important or he'd successfully suppressed them, unlike those of Setsuka's crazy ex that showed up in his nightmares for years afterwards or were forced to the forefront because of Subaru. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, his stomach twisting.

Shortly after his fifteenth birthday, Seishiro found himself at his dining table working on a mountain of physics homework. Setsuka was off somewhere, and though Seishiro was used to her working longer hours, he didn't always believe her when she said that was where she was. She hadn't brought any boyfriends back to the apartment since her ex had been arrested, probably because she was scared of Seishiro's reaction. ' _At least she's finally learned_ ,' he thought, coldly. He wasn't worried about her being out constantly; he didn't care what she did anymore. He was grown up now; he could take care of himself. However, it was still annoying when she'd come home in the middle of the night and wake him up, loud and intoxicated.

Seishiro finished a particularly difficult problem and stretched, looking over at his door as though expecting it to tell him news, even though he knew it was stupid. He sighed heavily, closed his textbook and put his things away. His high school was much more rigorous, but Seishiro liked it. It kept his mind busy and killed more time.

It was late by the time he finished his work, and he ended up going straight to bed. He fell asleep almost at once and started dreaming just as quickly. It was only a series of disjointed, strange images, but then, "Ah!" His mother's voice? "Ah!" And she was screaming, was she in trouble? Was this real life or just his dream? That old terrifying vision of a powerful hand reaching forward to grasp his throat- "Ah!"

Seishiro sat bolt upright, eyes wide and breath shallow. On the other side of his bedroom door, he heard his mother cry out again. He sprang out of bed, sprinted across the room and wrenched his door open.

He found her on the couch, arms around the neck of some man he didn't know. They were kissing passionately, and he had his hand up her skirt. Seishiro felt a visceral spasm of rage and disgust and clenched his fists. "What the _fuck_ …" They didn't seem to hear him. "Excuse me?" He persisted, in a tone of profoundly sarcastic politeness. Setsuka and her boyfriend broke apart, looked around, and their surprise turned to mortification when they saw Seishiro. They were clearly both wasted. "I have school tomorrow, could you please keep it down?" Setsuka opened her mouth to reply, but- "Thanks." He turned to her boyfriend. "I'm Seishiro, by the way, Setsuka's son, in case she forgot to mention me."

He returned to his room and slammed the door behind him. His blood was boiling and his stomach was twisting sickeningly. In that moment, he _hated_ her. He wanted to punish her for scaring him that way, for bringing more men into the house, for lying to him about where she'd been going, for continually doing stupid dangerous shit and shoving it in his face. He _hated_ her.

He leaned against his door and breathed deeply through his nose, though his heart refused to slow down. He heard Setsuka and her boyfriend talking quietly and screwed up his eyes in disgust. However, as they headed down the hall to her bedroom and the living room fell silent once again, Seishiro found a sudden comfort. This was all familiar. A worthless boyfriend to be gotten rid of? That was easy. He was out of practice, sure, but he wasn't worried. How many times had he done it before? He crossed the room and climbed back into bed, knowing another surge of vindictive pleasure at how angry it would make Setsuka. She deserved it though. Without question.

The next morning, Seishiro was up, dressed and off to school before either adult had woken up. When he got home, he stared about with narrowed eyes, but the apartment seemed empty. He wondered where Setsuka and her boyfriend were, or if he'd even see him again. Obviously, if he had any decency, he'd never show his face here again, but Setsuka's boyfriends never had any shame.

Seishiro made a contemptuous noise in his throat as he slammed his schoolbag on the dining table and sat down. He did homework in silence for a few hours, solving geometric proof after proof, until he heard a key in the door. He turned and saw Setsuka enter the apartment carrying a bag of groceries. Seishiro raised his eyebrows, but said nothing as she crossed the room and placed it on the counter. She hesitated a moment. "Seishiro?"

"What?" He asked, returning his gaze to his work. He knew she had rolled her eyes at his tone.

"I bought some roach traps, will you help me put them around?"

"When I finish my homework, yeah," he replied, grudgingly. ' _Trying to reconnect over insecticide. Good shit, Setsuka._ ' She began unpacking the groceries, and a few minutes passed in silence.

"My new boyfriend will be here later," Setsuka said, when she'd gathered enough courage. Seishiro paused, staring at his textbook.

"The one I saw you with last night?" He asked, delicately.

"Yes!" She snapped, defensively. He could tell she was embarrassed.

' _Good, you should be,_ ' he thought, rolling his eyes. Out loud, he said, "Whatever, I'm glad you're getting laid."

"For fuck's sake, Seishiro!" She cried, slamming her palms on the counter before turning around. Seishiro looked her in the face, impassive stare firmly in place. He hadn't been lying though: he did appreciate that she was open about only being out for herself rather than spouting bullshit about bringing these guys around for his sake. Setsuka just closed her eyes and sighed before starting to prepare dinner. Seishiro went back to his homework. A few more silent minutes passed before she tried again. "What are you working on?"

"Geometry. I have history to do too."

"What?" Seishiro often had the impression that Setsuka had no idea how old he was. She knew she could leave him by himself overnight, but couldn't be bothered with specifics.

"New York State mandates I learn them even though I'll never use them," He told her, patiently.

"Oh, right." Seishiro rolled his eyes. "But you like math, don't you?" She was digging through her memories, trying to find _something_ about him she had once known to be true.

"Yes," he replied, indifferently. She was clearly trying to get them back on civil terms before her boyfriend arrived, but Seishiro wasn't going to help. He remained silent, finishing his last proof with a mounting resentment. He wondered if Setsuka was still holding onto that fantasy of being a real housewife with a real husband despite it inevitably crashing down around her. At least she hadn't yet said some iteration of "This one is different!"

Seishiro put all his math stuff away, then reached into his bag for his history textbook to begin reading the assigned, desperately boring and irrelevant chapter. After another silent twenty minutes, their buzzer sounded, making Seishiro jump. He watched Setsuka hurry to the door, surprised she hadn't yet given this person a set of keys. However, this was probably because he hadn't asked for them rather than her learning from past mistakes.

Seishiro folded his arms on the table in front of him, staring unseeingly at his textbook and listening with all his might. After a few seconds, Setsuka let her boyfriend in. "Hey," Seishiro heard him say. Setsuka shut the door and kissed him hello.

"How was work?" She asked.

"It was fine." Seishiro could tell he was being watched. He considered just ignoring them, waiting for one of them to approach or try to get his attention, but decided against it. He stood up and turned to face Setsuka and her boyfriend, his arms folded in front of his chest. He locked eyes with her boyfriend, and something shifted in his expression as he looked Seishiro up and down. "Hey, nice to meet you. Seishiro, right?" Seishiro's lip curled.

"You remembered. That's impressive." Her boyfriend had the grace to blush, but he extended his hand anyway. Seishiro looked incredulously down at his hand, then back up at his face. Her boyfriend cleared his throat and withdrew his hand, but stared determinedly back at Seishiro. He had to give Setsuka credit this time; this one was at least good looking.

"Dinner's basically ready, if you guys are hungry," Setsuka offered, tentatively. Seishiro shrugged, broke their gaze and cleared his books and supplies off the table. Her boyfriend sat down, and Setsuka looked hesitantly relieved as she served dinner. Seishiro took the seat opposite her boyfriend and watched her grab a bottle of liquor out of the freezer and pour herself and her boyfriend drinks. She then took the seat between them and engaged her boyfriend in some unimportant conversation. Seishiro just observed in vaguely contemptuous silence.

He hadn't felt the immediate rush of revulsion that typically came with meeting these people, though he wasn't sure if that was because this boyfriend was actually a good one or because he'd just stopped caring. He'd been slightly discomposed by the way they'd locked eyes and the way her boyfriend had looked him up and down. No one had ever looked at him that way before.

"What were you working on?"

"Huh?" Setsuka's boyfriend sipped his drink.

"When I got here, were you doing schoolwork?" Seishiro gazed at him coldly, but deigned to reply.

"Just reading for a history class, earlier I had some geometry to do."

"Seishiro likes math," Setsuka interjected. How was she already drunk? Seishiro just sighed, but resisted rolling his eyes.

"Yeah? Are you good at math and science?"

"Sure," Seishiro replied, shrugging. He pushed his food around on his plate with his fork, then looked sideways at Setsuka. "I might study physics or something when I go away to college." Setsuka's boyfriend nodded thoughtfully, but she turned sharply to stare at Seishiro.

"Go away to college?" She asked, her eyes wide. Seishiro's lip curled.

"Yeah, remember? I told you I wanted to go to NYU or Columbia after I graduate." Truthfully, he hadn't ever expressed this ambition to her, and even though she'd filled out the paperwork for him to go to his college prep school and listened to the principal talk about college acceptance rates, she hadn't retained the information. That was her problem. Seishiro felt suddenly powerful as he stared at her, watching her panic at the thought of him leaving.

"But you'd still live at home, right?" She asked. Seishiro let out a soft, contemptuous noise.

"No, I'll dorm, that makes way more sense." Setsuka clearly wanted to press the issue, but surprisingly was able to restrain herself. Instead, she just finished her drink and poured herself another.

"NYU or Columbia? You're ambitious," her boyfriend said, his eyes all on Seishiro, who just stared back.

"Yeah, well, I want better for myself." Seishiro wasn't sure how true that was, but it sounded impressive. He wondered if Setsuka or her boyfriend picked up on what he actually meant by the words: that he wanted out of _this_ , out from under his mother's roof and life choices. If they did, they didn't say so, and the rest of dinner passed without incident. When Seishiro was finally able to retreat into his room, he could feel Setsuka's boyfriend's eyes on his back.

Over the next week, Setsuka's boyfriend came around a few more times. He and Seishiro mostly stayed out of each other's way, only saying hello or interacting over small things. He seemed content to just stare at Seishiro from afar or look him up and down when they spoke rather than actively involve himself. This worked well, especially because he and Setsuka spent most of their time out of the house anyway. They'd still come home at all hours of the night, loud and intoxicated, but Seishiro had gotten better at sleeping through it. Unfortunately, just like all the others, Seishiro could remember exactly when things had shifted.

A few weeks after this boyfriend had appeared, Seishiro banged on the bathroom door. "How long are you going to be? I need to brush my teeth!" He called impatiently. Setsuka's boyfriend had stayed over the night before, then jumped in the shower the second Setsuka had left for work. Seishiro wouldn't have cared except that he was taking forever and he needed to get to school.

"My bad, just come in!" Seishiro glared at the closed door suspiciously for a moment, but he didn't have time to wait.

"Fine!" He opened the door and the steam immediately fogged up his glasses. He took them off impatiently and set them on the edge of the sink, then reached for his toothbrush.

"Sorry about this," Setsuka's boyfriend said from behind the shower curtain. Seishiro made an indistinct noise, his mouth full of toothpaste. He looked at the shower curtain out of the corner of his eye. Setsuka's boyfriend was behind there, under the hot water, completely naked. Very suddenly, he became aware of his heartbeat, which was rather fast considering all he was doing was brushing his teeth.

Feeling rather hot in the face, Seishiro spat toothpaste into the sink just as the shower shut off. Seishiro watched Setsuka's boyfriend's arm extend from behind the shower curtain to grab hold of a towel. He snapped his gaze to the mirror above the sink again, gripping his toothbrush. Setsuka's boyfriend pulled back the shower curtain and climbed out of the tub, the towel wrapped around his waist. Even though his vision was blurry, Seishiro could still see his smooth chest, his hipbones. He came to stand behind Seishiro, and they looked at each other in the mirror as the condensation faded. Setsuka's boyfriend was staring at him the same way he had when they'd first been introduced, and Seishiro just stared back, his toothbrush still in his mouth, heart beating confusedly. Setsuka's boyfriend hesitated a moment.

"Sorry to keep you," he said, and he left the bathroom. Seishiro stood there as though paralyzed until he heard Setsuka's bedroom door slam. He rinsed out his mouth, grabbed his things and headed off to school.

Seishiro spent the rest of the day in a weird state of nerves he didn't understand. He couldn't seem to shake the encounter with Setsuka's boyfriend, which he'd relive in his mind and body whenever he wasn't occupied with something. He remembered the feeling of her boyfriend's chest so close to his back, almost as if they had been touching, and it would always make him blush. Was it possible that he… No, of course not. The only person Seishiro had really liked was his friend who had moved away. Besides, this was his mother's boyfriend, what the fuck was he thinking? He shook himself as he unlocked his locker to collect the books he'd need that night, then slammed it shut. He had to stay focused; he couldn't be distracted from his plan to get rid of this boyfriend. He had to go, just like the others.

Seishiro walked home, staring at the ground, while his schoolmates rushed past in groups. He had to admit, this boyfriend was different from the others. He seemed to respect Seishiro, and he wasn't easily discomposed by a bad attitude or idle threats; he was too smart. However, Seishiro was still smarter.

He entered his building and climbed the stairs to his apartment to find Setsuka's boyfriend on the couch with the TV on, though he looked up as Seishiro walked into the kitchen. "What are you doing here?" Seishiro asked, his eyes narrowing.

"I had the day off, Setsuka said I could stay."

"Setsuka says a lot of shit," Seishiro reminded him, dropping his bag onto the dining table. Her boyfriend laughed and returned his gaze to the TV. Seishiro debated just going into his room, but changed his mind as he eyed the back of her boyfriend's head. One on one time, even if they were both doing other things, was informative. Seishiro sat down and extracted the assigned book for his English class and began to read. He didn't like it, and immediately found his attention slipping. He kept glancing at Setsuka's boyfriend, at his arm stretched along the back of the couch. He looked around suddenly and Seishiro returned to his book at once, an uncomfortable heat rushing up his neck. Her boyfriend looked away again, and Seishiro managed to read the entire chapter before he actually said anything.

"Do you have a girlfriend, Seishiro?" He asked. Seishiro looked up.

"What?" Setsuka's boyfriend hesitated for a moment, then got up to join him at the dining table, leaving the TV on. He retrieved his pack of cigarettes and reached for the lighter on the table.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" Seishiro eyed him suspiciously.

"No." Her boyfriend lit a cigarette and took a deep inhale.

"Do you have someone you like?" He asked on his exhale. Seishiro's heart seemed to skip.

"No."

"Why not?" Seishiro met his gaze with raised eyebrows. What kind of question was that? And why was he asking? The TV went to a commercial, and an obnoxious jingle blared across the room.

"Because I don't like _anyone_ ," Seishiro replied, pointedly, reaching into his schoolbag for a notebook so he could begin to answer the questions assigned.

"That's fair," Setsuka's boyfriend replied, exhaling more smoke. Seishiro said nothing, though on some level he appreciated the words. They fell back into silence, Seishiro finishing his homework and Setsuka's boyfriend finishing several cigarettes, until they heard her key in the door. She entered the apartment looking tired and irritable, but when she caught sight of Seishiro and her boyfriend sitting together, she smiled. Her boyfriend stood up and went to kiss her hello and ask her how work was. Seishiro just finished answering his last question, his heart still beating rather quickly.

"Seishiro?"

"What?" Setsuka sighed.

"Is Chinese okay for dinner?" Seishiro rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, whatever, I don't care."

"I'll go pick it up, you stay here and relax," Setsuka's boyfriend said. "Just tell me what you want."

"You're the best, thank you," Setsuka cooed, and again Seishiro rolled his eyes. Her boyfriend walked over to stand behind him and placed his hand on his shoulder. Seishiro started, feeling the touch rush outwards through his body as he looked up.

"Do you want to come with me?" Seishiro narrowed his eyes, but her boyfriend just smiled. Seishiro didn't trust him, but agreed anyway. He got up, put his homework away and followed him out the door. He knew this made Setsuka happy, which meant he should have refused on principle, and yet… Well, either way, alone time was informative and valuable.

They didn't talk much as they picked up their take out and headed back to the apartment, for which Seishiro was grateful. Setsuka was in the kitchen waiting for them, changed out of her work clothes and smiling with a drink in her hand. She approached Seishiro as he placed the bag he was carrying on the counter. "You see how much easier it is when you act normal?" She asked, quietly and pointedly. Seishiro shot her a furious look but she became absorbed in her boyfriend again before she could see it. Yes, he definitely still hated her.

"Is there soy sauce in here?" Her boyfriend had come to stand behind Seishiro again without him even noticing. He turned to look him in the face, then flushed at how close they were.

"There's some in the cabinet," he replied, grateful his voice was steady.

"Thanks."

* * *

Seishiro rubbed his upper arms with his hands, feeling cold all of a sudden. He shivered, remembering with a welcome rush of contempt all the cheap ploys that man had used to get close to him, all the while pretending he wasn't attracted to him. Seishiro hadn't had any idea how to handle it at first. It wasn't as though he liked or disliked the attention; it was mostly just weird. However, as her boyfriend continued the soft, discreet touches, brushing his teeth or shaving while Seishiro was in the shower and whatever else, it occurred to him that this was how he'd get rid of him.

If Seishiro actually reciprocated, if they started… Whatever, and Setsuka found out, she'd be _furious_. If she wasn't, Seishiro could pull, "See this other dangerous person you brought into our house? See who you let come between us?" Either way, being fifteen, Seishiro himself would be completely blameless, even if he instigated everything. The one flaw in this plan was that he had no idea what to do. He'd never even kissed anyone before, let alone seduced someone older. However, he'd figure it out just as he always did, even if working up the nerve took a while.

His opportunity came one Saturday night. Setsuka and her boyfriend had gone out to some bar to drink, then returned to sit on the couch and drink more. Seishiro lay on his bed, his door closed, staring up at the ceiling. Rays of light from neighbors' windows fell across his bed, but otherwise the room was dark. The only sounds were the news on in the living room and Setsuka's loud, inappropriate commentary. Seishiro could tell she was trashed, and wondered if her boyfriend was too. Would that make it easier for him to do what he had to do? He wasn't even sure what that was; it's not like he could research or ask anyone.

Seishiro just listened as hard as he could, waiting for, he didn't even know what, but he'd know when he heard it. At last, Setsuka said, "I'll be right back," and Seishiro's heart skipped. He got out of bed at once, then stood still, his hand on his doorknob, listening to Setsuka get off the couch and walk down the hall.

Seishiro opened the door. It was dark out here too; the only light came from the TV screen. Setsuka's boyfriend sat in the middle of the couch with his legs spread and a drink in his hand. Seishiro swallowed, feeling his vision hone in on him as he looked up. "Can I watch with you?" He asked, tilting his head to the side and smiling.

"Uh, sure." Her boyfriend shifted awkwardly to make room and Seishiro took the seat beside him. He took another sip of his drink, and Seishiro watched his lips kiss the glass, watched his Adam's apple move up and down as he swallowed.

"Can I have a sip?" Seishiro asked, delicately. Setsuka's boyfriend's expression was blearily suspicious.

"What?" Seishiro made an impatient noise and took the drink from him, taking care to touch his hands as much as possible. Her boyfriend made a soft noise in his throat as he watched Seishiro bring the glass to his lips and drink from it. Seishiro managed to suppress his shudder. He didn't like the taste, and it made his face flush uncomfortably, but her boyfriend's expression was worth it. No one had ever looked at Seishiro that way before, and he didn't understand what he was seeing, but he felt powerful and excited.

They heard Setsuka come back down the hall and Seishiro handed her boyfriend back his drink at once. They both turned to face the TV as Setsuka entered the room, smiling at the pair of them together. Seishiro's heart was racing, but he was feeling much more confident. Setsuka took her seat on her boyfriend's other side and rested her head against him. Her boyfriend looked at Seishiro almost guiltily as he put his arm around her, but Seishiro just smiled.

None of them were paying attention to what was on the TV. Setsuka seemed to be falling asleep, and her boyfriend was sipping almost constantly on his drink, his knuckles white around the glass. Seishiro spread his legs so their thighs touched, and her boyfriend sighed softly. "Setsuka," he said, quietly, apparently when he could stand it no longer.

"Mmm?" He gave her a gentle shake.

"You're falling asleep, babe," he told her, and she looked up at him with glazed eyes. "Go get in bed, I'll be there soon." Setsuka nodded, got up and shuffled down the hall. Seishiro's lip curled as he watched her go. He reached for the liquor bottle that was on the coffee table, unscrewed it and took a sip. It burned and he pulled a disgusted face, but immediately felt more heat, and confidence, rise up inside him. At the same time, he could almost feel himself disengaging, as though he were withdrawing deeper into his body. He liked that.

He replaced the bottle just as Setsuka's bedroom door closed, and her boyfriend turned to look at him. Seishiro moved even closer, staring at her boyfriend's lips. "Um," her boyfriend said, rather breathlessly. Seishiro hesitated a moment longer, than leaned in and kissed him. His first kiss ever, and it barely even registered. "Fuck…" Her boyfriend breathed, against his lips. "I, we can't tell _anyone_ , do you understand?"

"I understand," Seishiro assured him. His mother's boyfriend groaned softly, grabbed the back of Seishiro's head and pulled him into another kiss. Seishiro closed his eyes and let him take the lead, feeling a weird rush of excitement even through his disconnection. Her boyfriend shoved his tongue into his mouth, and Seishiro stiffened awkwardly, but went with it. Kissing was weird, and he didn't really see the appeal, but he seemed to know intuitively what to do. He climbed into her boyfriend's lap and straddled him, making him groan softly again. Seishiro shivered slightly. Was he really causing him to make such noises?

Setsuka's boyfriend grabbed onto Seishiro's hips and began moving him back and forth, and he gasped softly as he realized he was hard, and… Her boyfriend was hard too? Seishiro's heart sped up sharply. He could make him hard, he could make him desirous and lustful, he could make him overlook the fact that he was fifteen and his girlfriend's son. _Seishiro_ had done these things. He felt a sudden, surge of power and excitement and began grinding his hips back and forth with much more enthusiasm. He liked that better than kissing anyway, the friction and pressure felt good.

"Fuck…" Her boyfriend moaned, pulling out of their kiss again. He looked up at Seishiro, and his expression was needy. He _wanted_ Seishiro, and Seishiro liked it. He seized the front of her boyfriend's shirt and pulled him into a kiss, feeling another rush of power. Her boyfriend let out another soft groan before pulling away. Seishiro's eyes narrowed in frustration, but then her boyfriend wrapped his arms around him and buried his face in his neck. "We shouldn't be doing this," he murmured. Seishiro was about to reply, but then her boyfriend started to kiss his neck and all that came out was a shaky exhale. He threw his head back in a soft gasp, fresh heat rushing between his legs. This _definitely_ felt good.

Seishiro rocked his hips backwards and forwards. "Fuck," her boyfriend groaned right in his ear. Seishiro gasped softly again. He knew what it felt like to be turned on, to please himself, to come, but this was… It felt good, better than he'd expected, though he hadn't really known what to expect. Was this really what this all felt like? Was this really what people were so desperate for all the time? What-

"Ah!"

"Shh…" Her boyfriend had undone Seishiro's pants and taken hold of his erection. Seishiro went _very_ red; no one had ever touched him there before, and it was completely different when it was someone else's hand. He shivered and wondered if this was actually a terrible idea, if they should stop, if they _could_ stop. A sudden door slamming outside and a brief argument in a language neither of them understood brought them sharply back to Earth.

Seishiro and Setsuka's boyfriend looked at each other, and seemed for a moment to come back to themselves through their disconnection and drunkenness. "We-" her boyfriend started to say, but Seishiro swallowed his words in a kiss. This time, he tried thrusting his tongue into his mouth and received a needy moan in response.

' _Yes we can,_ ' Seishiro thought. ' _You know you want it even though it's fucked, give it to me_.' Yes. This was a good idea. This was what had to happen. They broke apart. "Let's go to my room," Seishiro whispered. Her boyfriend tightened his grip around Seishiro's erection and exhaled forcefully, but then swallowed and nodded.

Seishiro climbed off of him and waited for him to get to his feet before heading into his bedroom. Setsuka's boyfriend followed him and shut the door. Seishiro turned, and immediately her boyfriend pushed him down onto his bed. Seishiro was still feeling disconnected, but his heart was also racing and his stomach was twisting as her boyfriend climbed on top of him. He hovered above him, their lips millimeters apart, but didn't kiss him. Instead, he moved down, settling between Seishiro's legs.

Seishiro propped himself up on his elbows, watching apprehensively. His mouth went dry as her boyfriend undid his pants, and his breath caught in his throat as he pulled them and his underwear halfway down his thighs, exposing his erection. Seishiro's blush deepened as he watched her boyfriend stare between his legs, a desperate look on his face. Seishiro didn't understand and felt totally exposed and had no idea what to do, but then her boyfriend pressed his lips against the base of his erection, inhaled deeply and exhaled in a soft, desirous groan.

Seishiro was shaking now. This was weird, and he didn't get it, but then her boyfriend licked up to the tip of his erection and he had to bite back a cry. He'd never felt anything like this before, and it only got more intense as her boyfriend took all of his erection into his mouth and began to move up and down. Seishiro screwed up his eyes and fell back onto his bed, his mouth open and chest heaving with a series of low, guttural moans. He was hot all over and his thighs were shaking as the tight, wet heat moved up and down. Oh _god_ it felt good, but he had to keep his voice down and his head was spinning and he was already so close. Should he say something? Could he say something? He blushed furiously and couldn't look as he said, in a small voice, "I'm, I'm gonna-"

Her boyfriend just moved faster, and Seishiro let out a soft cry, his eyes screwed up. His entire body stiffened just as it always did, then released as he came into her boyfriend's mouth. It felt _way_ better than it usually did, and he just lay back, eyes closed, breathing heavily as he slowly came down. He felt rather weak and shaky.

Her boyfriend took his mouth away, swallowed and crawled back on top of him. For one horrifying second, Seishiro was afraid he'd try to kiss him, but he just whispered in his ear, "You liked that, didn't you?" Seishiro nodded before he could stop himself. Her boyfriend placed his first two fingers under Seishiro's chin and turned him so they were looking at each other. Seishiro blushed. He didn't want to see. Not that he was embarrassed, why should he feel that way? "I got so hard doing that to you," he breathed, and Seishiro's heart pounded and eyes widened. Her boyfriend took hold of Seishiro's hand and brought it carefully between his legs. Seishiro gasped softly. "Will you help me out?" Seishiro shivered, but he said nothing. "Do the same for me?" Seishiro looked up at him, feeling paralyzed and exposed, but not unwilling. He squeezed his erection through his pants.

"Yes," he replied. Setsuka's boyfriend exhaled forcefully and lay on his back, looking expectant. Seishiro swallowed, his stomach clenching nervously, but again his vision seemed to hone in on Setsuka's boyfriend, spread out on his bed before him. ' _At least he's attractive_ ,' Seishiro thought, grudgingly. He zipped up his own pants before getting into position between her boyfriend's spread legs, just as he'd seen him do. His hands shook slightly as he undid her boyfriend's pants and pulled them down, revealing his erection. Seishiro swallowed and his stomach twisted again. He wasn't afraid, though. He could do it. He was ready. He was grown up.

Tentatively, Seishiro reached out and took hold of her boyfriend's erection, and he made a soft, appreciative noise. Seishiro flushed, but found it heartening. He began to move his hand up and down, receiving more encouraging noises. Seishiro understood this, at least; it was the same as when he did it himself. However, he also knew what he'd agreed to. He took one last breath in and sighed it out before leaning forward and wrapping his lips around the tip of her boyfriend's erection.

Her boyfriend exhaled sharply and Seishiro felt him shudder as he moved his head up and down, taking more and more into his mouth each time. It wasn't as bad as it might have been; it just tasted like skin. He tried to take it all into his mouth, but it hit the back of his throat and he gagged. Blushing and praying her boyfriend hadn't noticed, Seishiro took his mouth away. He swallowed, then went back for more, careful not to go down as far. He breathed deeply through his nose, smelling sweat, but still, it wasn't awful. He had no idea if he was doing a good job, not that it really mattered, but her boyfriend began to groan softly, over and over, which Seishiro found encouraging.

He moved faster, up and down his erection, still holding tight to the base to keep it in place and being careful not to gag on it. As he got used to it, he found it bizarrely gratifying to please him, way more than he thought he would.

Her boyfriend reached down and grabbed a fistful of Seishiro's hair. Seishiro stiffened, but her boyfriend just moved his head up and down, finding a rhythm he liked. It didn't bother Seishiro, necessarily, he supposed it was easier this way, but- "Uh!" He cried out softly as her boyfriend's erection hit the back of his throat again. Her boyfriend didn't seem to notice as he continued to move Seishiro's head up and down, over and over again.

He didn't like this. It wasn't gratifying anymore. He wanted it to be over. "Fuck, I'm-" Her boyfriend's voice was low and constricted, and Seishiro felt his erection stiffen in his mouth. "Yes!" Warm, bleachy bitterness rushed outwards into Seishiro's mouth. He swallowed at once, because he couldn't think what else to do, and he wanted the weird, off-putting taste out of his mouth.

Seishiro sat up the moment her boyfriend took his hand away and perched himself on the edge of his bed. He stared straight ahead, waiting, but her boyfriend just lay still, breathing deeply. Eventually, he seemed to recover himself. He reached down to do up his pants again, then came to sit beside Seishiro. A few moments passed in silence. "You okay?" Setsuka's boyfriend asked, rather awkwardly.

"Yeah," Seishiro replied at once, even as his stomach twisted uncomfortably.

"Cool." More silence. "This is just between us, right? No one else can know." Seishiro heard the fear simmering just below his cool, still drunk tone. He chanced a glance at him out of the corner of his eye, and saw the shame in his expression as he looked down at his hands folded in his lap.

"I know," Seishiro assured him. Even more silence, and the unasked questions seemed to hang in the air between them. Was Seishiro telling the truth? Would Setsuka find out? Would they do this again? Her boyfriend hesitated a moment longer.

"Um, good night."

"Good night." Setsuka's boyfriend got to his feet, left the room and shut the door behind him without looking back. Seishiro sat there a while, feeling strange and disconnected. He heard Setsuka's boyfriend shut off the TV, which he hadn't even realized was still on, then walk down the hall to her bedroom. He was just going to sleep next to her now, like it was no big deal. Like nothing had happened.

Seishiro wrapped his arms around himself and stared at the floor, his stomach twisting. Did this really not bother her boyfriend as much as it seemed? Or did Seishiro just have to wait for the shame to really set in? He had seemed regretful, hadn't he? But if he wasn't, this was all a huge, not mistake, but definitely a waste of effort…

Seishiro swallowed, that taste still in his mouth, feeling suddenly unclean. Out of nowhere, he remembered that news report he'd seen all those years ago about those men sick and dying in St. Vincent's Hospital. Panic rose up shockingly inside him, but he fought it. ' _No! No. No no no._ ' He wouldn't end up that way. He wouldn't! He held himself more tightly and breathed deeply through his nose, trying valiantly to stay calm. He reflected bitterly that if he did get sick and die that way, it'd be an awesome way to spite Setsuka, and, would it really be such a loss?

Another wave of panic crashed inside Seishiro's chest and he sprang to his feet, unable to stand it. He strode across his room, wrenched his door open and sprinted into the living room. He seized the liquor bottle they had left on the coffee table, unscrewed it and took as big a sip as he could manage. He gasped as it burned his throat, but it made him feel better: now all he could taste was the alcohol, and he felt again that immediate disconnection, withdrawing from the surface.

He replaced the top and set the bottle back on the coffee table. Then, still breathing heavily, he returned to his room. He got undressed, feeling more disconnected by the second, and lay down in bed. He pulled his covers up to his chin, listening to the distant sounds of an argument in some neighbor's apartment, and fell asleep almost at once.

* * *

Seishiro still felt shivery. He rubbed his upper arms more vigorously with his palms, but it was no good. He narrowed his eyes, glaring across the kitchen. It was bad enough he'd… Was he getting a fever or something else, now? Was this all just from the stress of what had happened with Subaru? It had to be, what else could it be? He hardly ever got sick.

Seishiro sighed and walked to the thermostat in his living room. He turned up the heat and put the fan on. That should take care of it. He sighed again and stared around his living room, wishing he could return to feeling as disconnected as he had felt in his memories. Pulling away and withdrawing into himself used to come easily. However, that, like so many other things, had become all the more difficult recently. Subaru was always able to keep Seishiro present. At first he hadn't minded, especially during sex. However, as their relationship progressed, it became more and more tiresome.

Subaru was needy. He wanted Seishiro there _all the time_ , only to ask for more. He was never satisfied. Seishiro felt a rush of resentment and ill usage as he crossed the room and sat down on his couch. He wrapped his arms around himself again, waiting for his apartment to warm up so he'd stop shivering. Subaru got cold easily too. He was always shivering, asking to be held, to cuddle. Of course, "asking" had meant cautiously approaching and hinting, because Subaru never explicitly asked for anything.

' _Until he met Kamui_ ,' Seishiro thought, bitterly. Not that they would last, though. Subaru wasn't meant to be that assertive. He needed someone like Seishiro. Someone who could guide him, keep him in line and give him direction. Seishiro leaned back against the couch.

He remembered feeling shivery the morning after he and Setsuka's boyfriend had traded blowjobs, too. Maybe this was just a side effect of the memories? Probably. He thought, rather spitefully, of maybe telling Subaru all of this when he came back. He had wanted to know so badly; there he'd have it. That's what he'd get for asking such invasive questions. Seishiro rubbed his upper arms all the more vigorously, willing himself to stop shivering.

The morning after, Setsuka and her boyfriend had woken up late. Seishiro heard them emerging from her bedroom, tired and hung over, and pulled his covers up over his head. He didn't want to see them, not when he'd relive the night before every time he closed his eyes. Not when he had no idea how her boyfriend was feeling or if he'd even remember. He swallowed and rolled over under his blankets to face away from the door. He was feeling shivery and had a headache and he couldn't stop blushing. Not that he had any reason to feel embarrassed or whatever. Last night had been fine; it was just new. Besides, he'd really liked getting his dick sucked; he could definitely do that again. Reciprocating, though… It had been empowering at first to please someone else, to make him shiver and groan, but it was physically so uncomfortable. Seishiro wondered if it'd be different with someone else, then just as quickly if he'd ever find out. It wasn't like guys to fuck around with were plentiful.

* * *

Seishiro shifted awkwardly on the couch. He had never gotten to like it, even with someone he wasn't fucking out of spite. His chest constricted painfully as he had a sudden flash of memory to some early day with Subaru in some hotel room in Tokyo. Seishiro had stripped him naked and was on top of him, kissing, licking and biting all the way down his chest, belly and hips, leaving marks all over his body, which seemed to get more and more beautiful as he looked at it-

"Ah, wait!" Seishiro looked up. Subaru pressed himself up to sit and flushed as he looked down at Seishiro.

"What?" Subaru's flush deepened.

"I, um, with your mouth, you don't have to," he said in a rush. Seishiro stared up at him, not understanding.

"I wasn't going to." Subaru's flush deepened still further.

"Sorry! I, I just don't really like it." Seishiro paused, aware of just how fast his heart had started to beat.

"No?" Seishiro had always been met with attitude when he refused to do this. Subaru shook his head. Again, he was different, and Seishiro was intrigued. He smiled and climbed back on top of him, laying him down and putting his face very close to his. "I'm going to fuck you now," he breathed before kissing him. Subaru made a soft, excited noise and wrapped his arms around him.

* * *

Another unusual and special thing about Subaru was that he would almost always let Seishiro fuck him, except for those rare occasions when he'd insist on just giving head. Seishiro didn't mind those times. It wasn't as desirable, but it was certainly an acceptable substitute. At least, it was with Subaru. Of course, most of Seishiro's experience had been one-night stands or weekend affairs, so he very rarely got to know anyone sexually. The only real exceptions were Subaru, Setsuka's boyfriend and that one married man who…

Seishiro eyed his cigarettes on the coffee table for a moment, but didn't light one. He still felt sick and shivery, especially as more memories began to play.

At first he'd been unsure if he and Setsuka's boyfriend would do anything else, or if it really would just been a one-time thing. They didn't mention it, obviously, but Seishiro could tell he was thinking about it. He'd completely stopped touching him, standing close to him and whatever else, plus he wouldn't allow them to be alone in the apartment. However, Seishiro would still catch him staring, so it was all a wasted effort. He didn't need to worry, anyway; the only way Setsuka would find out would be if she caught them doing it again. If Seishiro tried to tell her what had happened, she wouldn't believe him and would probably get angry at him for suggesting it.

Her boyfriend, however, didn't know this, and it was obvious. Whenever Seishiro was in the room with them, he'd go out of his way to be affectionate towards her, to touch her and kiss her. Kiss her with the same lips that had wrapped so longingly around Seishiro's erection. Seishiro liked to catch his eye whenever he was doing this and smile, or lick his lips. Her boyfriend would always look away at once, discomposed, and Seishiro's lip would curl. He'd like to do it again, or at least get his dick sucked again. He'd find a way not to return the favor.

A few weeks later, Seishiro was in his room some weeknight, finishing his homework. Setsuka and her boyfriend were in the living room with the TV on, sharing a bottle of liquor and a carton of cigarettes. The phone rang. "Hello?" Came Setsuka's voice. "What? Oh for god's sake…" A pause, and Seishiro looked up, listening. "Will I get overtime?" Another pause. "All right I'll be there in twenty minutes." She sighed and hung up the phone.

"What's up?" Her boyfriend asked.

"I have to go into work, the new girl they have working nights is an idiot," Setsuka replied, furiously. "I love how they just _forget_ I have a man and son at home!" Seishiro snorted contemptuously as he heard her gather her things. "I'll probably be back late, don't wait up for me!"

"Wait, I-" The door slammed shut, cutting him off. Seizing his chance, Seishiro shoved his schoolwork off his bed and hurried into the living room. Setsuka's boyfriend was on his feet, staring at the closed door.

"Are you leaving?" Seishiro asked. Her boyfriend jumped and whirled around. His eyes roved up and down Seishiro's body before fixing upon his face. Seishiro smiled.

"Yes," her boyfriend replied, though he remained where he was.

"Really?" Seishiro asked, taking a step towards him. Her boyfriend rolled his eyes and made to turn away, but Seishiro caught him by the wrist. "Wait," he said, quietly. He tried to imitate the needy, hungry expression her boyfriend had worn while staring at his erection. "Give me _some_ time?" Her boyfriend shivered and something in his face seemed to darken. "You know I won't tell anyone," Seishiro continued, lowering his voice still further. He had no idea if he was doing this right, but it certainly seemed to be working. Her boyfriend's eyes darted from Seishiro's hand around his wrist, then back up to his face, and he took a step forward. "Stay," Seishiro breathed, and her boyfriend grabbed the back of his head and pulled him into a kiss. ' _Yes_ ,' Seishiro thought, wrapping his arms around him.

Her boyfriend reached down and gabbed onto Seishiro's ass to pull him closer, making him gasp softly. He still didn't like kissing much, but his body always responded to being touched, even as he felt himself disconnecting and withdrawing farther and farther away from the surface. Her boyfriend pulled away, his breath heavy. "I want to fuck you," he breathed, and Seishiro shivered in spite of himself.

"Okay," he whispered back, without even thinking about what he was agreeing to. Her boyfriend groaned and kissed Seishiro again, digging his fingers into his ass. ' _I'm going to lose my virginity_ ,' he thought. His heart sped up very suddenly, but he suppressed it, trying to stay disconnected. He'd be fine; it was to spite Setsuka, he was ready, it would be okay. Her boyfriend pulled out of their kiss and Seishiro took his arm and pulled him into his bedroom. Her boyfriend smiled at his eagerness. ' _Yes, but you want it more than me_ ,' Seishiro reminded him, mentally.

Her boyfriend closed the door, shut off the light and stood behind Seishiro, shoving his hands up his shirt and dragging them down his chest. Seishiro gasped softly, feeling himself get completely hard. Her boyfriend undid Seishiro's pants and slipped his hand inside, taking hold of his erection and stroking it. "Fuck…" He whispered, and Seishiro threw his head back in another soft gasp. Her boyfriend then took his hand away and pulled Seishiro's pants roughly to his knees.

Seishiro flushed, staring down at his erection before Setsuka's boyfriend bent him over. Seishiro's forearms came to rest on his bed, and his eyes widened and breath sped up sharply. He didn't like this position, and he felt goose bumps rise up all over his newly exposed skin.

Setsuka's boyfriend grabbed onto Seishiro's ass again, this time spreading him apart. Seishiro let out a soft cry and flushed deeper. He tried to stay disconnected but uncertainty forced him to stay present. Not that he was afraid, but… He looked apprehensively over his shoulder and saw her boyfriend suck on his first two fingers, then press them up against him.

Seishiro snapped his gaze forward again, mouth dry and face burning. Was he really going to- "Ah!" He cried out, tensing up around the intrusion. He didn't like it. He didn't like it at all. He wanted to stop, but he couldn't stop! Not when he'd instigated this. After all, it would be worth it to spite Setsuka, even though in some part of his brain he knew she'd never be home in time to catch them. "Ah!" Another finger was inside him.

"You gotta relax," Setsuka's boyfriend told him, stretching him open. Seishiro buried his face in his blankets. Who was this guy to tell him anything?!

"I'm fine, just do it!" Seishiro said, impatiently, his face still in the blankets. Her boyfriend took his fingers away and Seishiro knew a moment's relief before he heard her boyfriend undo his pants, spit into his palm and rub it up and down his erection. He took hold of Seishiro's hip with one hand and guided his erection into place with the other. Seishiro was shaking. Surely this couldn't work, it wouldn't feel good, it would-

"Relax."

"I'm fine!" He could feel her boyfriend's erection pressing into him. He screwed up his eyes, trying his best to stay calm, to disconnect, but he couldn't stop shaking. Why did his body refuse to cooperate? Why did it betray him this way?

Seishiro bit down on his forearm to stifle his cry as Setsuka's boyfriend pushed all the way inside. Tears leaked out of his eyes, but he wiped them away before her boyfriend could see. It hurt. It felt like he was being split in half, like the pain inside him was radiating outwards from all points of contact. He gasped for breath, but he wouldn't cry out, if _only_ he could stop shaking!

Setsuka's boyfriend collapsed forward, digging his fingernails into Seishiro's hips, his breathing harsh and shallow in his ear. "Fuck!" He gasped. "You're so, so _tight_!" More tears. Seishiro gripped the blankets and buried his face in his forearms. He couldn't tell if the words were intended as praise, but that's how Seishiro took them. Her boyfriend's desire for him, even now, made him feel powerful, in control, _wanted_.

Her boyfriend pressed his lips between Seishiro's shoulder blades and inhaled sharply before straightening up again. Seishiro tried desperately to slow his breath and his heartbeat, but he was still in pain, he still wanted to stop, but, now he definitely couldn't. Her boyfriend pulled out and thrust back in. The friction burned, and Seishiro let out a soft cry, then hated himself for it. It was a shameful noise, frightened and small.

Setsuka's boyfriend kept going, and gradually, Seishiro was able to disconnect again. Did people really get off on this? How?! He just wanted it to end… Even more tears. Setsuka's boyfriend paused to reach around, and Seishiro gasped as he revived the erection he'd lost. Her boyfriend kept thrusting in and out, at the same time pumping Seishiro faster and faster. Seishiro moaned a little, but he _hated_ it.

"Come… together…!" Setsuka's boyfriend whispered, his voice constricted. Seishiro just moaned more in reply. He came shortly after, and his face burned in humiliation. Her boyfriend must have come too, because he let out a deep, guttural moan and collapsed onto Seishiro again, once more pressing his lips between his shoulder blades. "Fuck…"

It was a while before he straightened up and pulled out. Seishiro let out another soft, shameful noise at the friction and stood up straight too, then immediately felt light headed. He took a few deep breaths, but he was still shaking as he pulled his pants up. He felt sick and there was a burning pain inside him, but his mind was oddly blank. He stared straight ahead, but said nothing. Behind him, Setsuka's boyfriend reached for tissues from the box on his desk. Seishiro wrapped his arms around himself, an unpleasant prickling on the back of his neck. "Hey…" Her boyfriend said, reaching out and placing his hand on Seishiro's shoulder. Seishiro shuddered, but was able to turn around.

Their eyes met, and Seishiro could see his face fall slightly under the weight of the same questions as last time. Her boyfriend swallowed and took his hand away awkwardly, looking deeply ashamed. ' _Good_ ,' Seishiro thought.

"I'm uh, I'm gonna go," he said, looking away. Seishiro just shrugged. "Tell your-" he sighed, and Seishiro felt a rush of vindictive pleasure. "Tell her something came up?" Seishiro clenched his teeth.

"Sure, whatever." Her boyfriend opened his bedroom door and moved about the living room, gathering his things. Seishiro leaned against the doorframe, anger bubbling suddenly in his chest. This guy had some nerve asking for his help.

"Do you fuck _her_ like that?" He asked, spitefully. Her boyfriend straightened up, but he couldn't look at Seishiro.

"Fuck you," he muttered, before crossing the room and leaving the apartment, slamming the door behind him. Seishiro knew a moment of vengeful satisfaction.

"You fucking _did_ ," he told the silence. "You fucking did, and-" his throat constricted sharply. He swallowed, but unnamable and painful emotions had suddenly risen up in his chest. He wrapped his arms around himself again, shivering, the vengeful satisfaction draining out of him as though someone had pulled a plug in his stomach. He couldn't disconnect now. He was in his body, and it hurt. His insides were still burning, and it was… No, it wasn't embarrassing! He wasn't ashamed; Setsuka's boyfriend was the one who should be ashamed!

"You're so, so _tight_!"

Seishiro dug his fingernails into his upper arms and shuddered as his insides gave an especially painful throb. "Ow…" He said, softly, and tears came before he could stop them. He wiped them away impatiently, feeling unclean, contaminated and so, _so_ alone. His head swam sickeningly as he walked down the hall to his bathroom, wincing at the friction and feeling disgusting for it. He shut the door but didn't bother turning on the light. He undressed carelessly and placed his glasses on the sink, refusing to look at himself in the mirror. He turned on the shower and a cockroach run up the cracked tile wall. Seishiro ignored it and gasped softly as he stepped under the hot water. It burned his skin, momentarily taking his mind off the pain inside him.

He reached for the soap and rubbed it, hard, up and down his arms, shoulders and chest, occasionally scratching himself with his fingernails. His skin became raw, red and shiny, but he didn't care. He wanted to see blood, to tear himself to pieces. He wanted Setsuka to come in and find him that way. He gasped suddenly, fresh tears pouring down his face. Why couldn't he stop crying?!

As he rinsed off, the heat and steam suddenly made him feel light headed. He sank down to the bottom of the bath, letting go of the soap and allowing it to slide towards the drain. He lay against the cold, porcelain side of the tub and rested his head on the edge, still crying. The shower continued to pour over him. Hot water ran down his chest, belly and hips and crept between his legs.

Seishiro shut his eyes, again becoming aware of the pain inside him. He knew with girls the first time was supposed to hurt, apparently it was the same here. He opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. Through the steam and his blurry vision, he could make out cracks and a few more scurrying cockroaches. His mind seemed to hone in on them, at last allowing him to disconnect. He seemed to be sinking into the porcelain against his back, pressed down by the water. Hopefully soon he'd slip away into the blackness at the edges of his brain. He imagined himself as the young man he'd seen on TV all those years ago. Weak, sick, breathing through a mask.

Seishiro lay there for hours, or maybe years, or decades, before he was aware of any sound other than the shower. "Who left the TV on?" Setsuka. "Seishiro?" His name seemed to reach him, somehow, but he didn't move. He heard her walking around the apartment, calling for him and her boyfriend. Eventually, she came down the hall and banged on the bathroom door. "Seishiro?!"

"Yes?" He called, dragging the words up from deep inside himself. She opened the door without asking to be let in.

"SEISHIRO!" He tilted his head further back over the edge of the tub, feeling his throat stretch. She switched on the light and Seishiro shut his eyes against the sudden brightness. She rushed over, kneeled down beside the tub and shut off the water. "Oh my god what have you done?! What happened?!" The words seemed to reach Seishiro through a haze. "You're freezing! Get up!" Her face was chalk white and her eyes were wide. Seishiro had thought she was furious, but maybe it was something else?

She threw a towel over him and the crisp, dry texture seemed to jumpstart him back into his body. He really was freezing. When had the water started running cold? He bent his knees and sat up, cringing at the residual soreness between his legs and shivering uncontrollably. "Get up!" Setsuka snapped again. Seishiro took hold of the sides of the tub and pushed and pulled himself into a standing position, his muscles stiff and unresponsive. "What the fuck were you doing?!" Setsuka demanded, seizing the towel and drying him off rather aggressively. Seishiro said nothing. He just stood there, shivering. He was aware Setsuka was berating him, but had no idea what she was actually saying until she demanded to know where her boyfriend was.

"He left," Seishiro replied, simply, again dragging up the words from deep inside.

"What did you do?!" Setsuka demanded, grabbing his upper arms and shaking him.

"I let him fuck me." Setsuka's eyes widened even further and she slapped Seishiro hard across the face.

"Don't be disgusting, Seishiro, what the _fuck_ is wrong with you?!" She screamed, her face twisting in fury; just the reaction he'd expected.

"You tell me," he replied without meaning to, as though someone else were using his mouth, lungs and voice.

"GO TO YOUR ROOM!" She snapped, shoving him away from her as though he were contaminated. Seishiro slipped, but steadied himself by grabbing the tile wall. "GO TO YOUR ROOM AND STAY THERE!" Seishiro stared at her blankly for a moment, then stepped out of the tub, still shivering violently. He picked up his glasses from the edge of the sink and put them on before returning to his bedroom.

He shut his door tightly behind him, finished drying himself off and got dressed again. The dry roughness of his nightclothes felt strange against his cold, clammy skin, but it did seem to be helping him warm up. He got into bed, still shivering, and wrapped his blankets tightly around himself. In the living room, he heard Setsuka sit down on the couch, heard the liquor bottle open, heard her start to cry.

* * *

Seishiro was still shivering as the memory faded away to blackness. The old feeling of being unclean was upon him again, as though he'd caught it from his fifteen-year-old self. He stood up very suddenly and walked through his bedroom into the en suite. He turned on the shower, making the water as hot as he could stand it, then began to get undressed. Goosebumps rose on all his exposed skin despite the heat and steam that filled the room. He folded and hung up his clothes neatly before taking off his glasses and stepping into the shower.

Heat flushed the surface of his skin and he stopped shivering almost at once. However, the feeling of being unclean and contaminated persisted, or perhaps that was just more memories crawling to the surface of his mind.

Seishiro and Setsuka's boyfriend had had sex four more times after that, whenever he could ignore all the moral objections that came with his sobriety. It had been pretty much the same each time: a moment of weakness, then pleasure and self-disgust for him and pain and power for Seishiro. Seishiro got better at spotting those times he was most vulnerable, at moving in at just the right moment, at being seductive. Each time it gave him an immensely pleasurable rush of power, which felt way better than anything Setsuka's boyfriend did for him. He always made him come, but Seishiro almost wished he wouldn't. It never felt especially good, and it made his stomach twist uncomfortably. He didn't need to enjoy sex; he wasn't looking for pleasure.

Seishiro reflected that this was a pattern that had persisted into his future relationships. He didn't like getting fucked, but he liked the power it gave him. His favorite part would always be the looks on their faces afterwards: the self-disgust, the shame, the relief that they'd given into these baser desires. Seishiro had brought all that out of them, and they both loved and hated him for it.

He'd seen it with Setsuka's boyfriend first, then seen it start to become way too much. Seishiro would stay in the background, watching him push Setsuka away, withdraw from her, only to come into his room after she'd gone to sleep. Eventually, though, like all of Setsuka's other boyfriends, he left, never to be seen again. Seishiro felt more vengeful satisfaction as he watched her cry about it on their couch. At least this one had the decency to break it off to her face, to make up some excuse about why it wasn't working, rather than just stop answering her calls or getting led away in handcuffs.

Seishiro had gone to sit beside her and allowed her hold onto him and cry for a while. She wasn't angry at him this time, she didn't know he had broken up this relationship just like all the others. He felt no guilt whatsoever, but the aftermath was certainly easier to deal with when his hand was undetectable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's that I guess. See you next week?
> 
> I think of reviews when I summon my kekkai, leave me some!


	4. 04

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thursday!
> 
> How are you all doing today? Good, I hope! I'm exhausted. I saw Moonlight with my boyfriend last night and it just... It blew my mind. I don't really like movies but this was extraordinary. If you can see it, absolutely do!
> 
> So this chapter. I cried a lot over it (as if I don't say that about every chapter LOL) because again, I can't say if it's better or worse, but it's definitely a different flavor of awful. Either way, I'll be excited to hear what you all think! Just one more after this one, can you believe it?!
> 
> Anyway, chapter 4!

Seishiro let out a heavy sigh, the steamy air pressing on his mouth and nose, and reached for the soap. He began to scrub his body clean, trying to eliminate the crawling contamination he'd caught from the memories, even as they continued to play.

Setsuka had essentially fallen apart after that boyfriend had left. Though, truthfully, there hadn't been much holding her together as long as he could remember. She kept working, she had to, but when she'd come home she'd just lie on the couch or in her bed for hours at a time, drunk or just in a stupor under a cloud of cigarette smoke. As she let herself go, the house followed, becoming dirtier and darker than Seishiro had ever seen it, full of empty liquor bottles, cigarette ash and cockroaches.

Seishiro felt no sympathy for her. That was what she deserved. He began spending more and more time out of the house, usually at the library or school to work and study, and the rest of high school was another blur. Before he knew it he was taking the Regents and the SAT and filling out college and scholarship applications.

Seishiro's next clear memory was his senior year of high school, shortly after his eighteenth birthday. He was expecting acceptance or rejection letters from colleges any day now, and every check of his mailbox brought a fresh wave of anxiety. Not that he was actually worried. He knew he'd get in somewhere. His first choice was Columbia, though of course, he wouldn't say no to NYU or Pace or Cornell. His teachers had told him to apply to Eugene Lang too, though he had no idea why, there would be nothing for him there.

Seishiro entered his building one Thursday after school to find the lobby light completely out rather than just flickering. He rolled his eyes, distracted from his stomach clenching and twisting as he stuck his key in his mailbox and opened it. There was a large, thick envelope there, folded and stuffed in impatiently. Seishiro felt the familiar rush of disappointment and relief, thinking it was probably something about their rent going up. However, as he retrieved the envelope, he saw the crown emblem. His heart began to pound and his hands shook as he shut the mailbox and locked it. He sprinted back upstairs, clutching the envelope to his chest.

He wrenched his apartment door open and dropped his school bag as he rushed into his kitchen. He swallowed and tore open the envelope with trembling hands. At last he was able to extract the crisp sheet of white paper lying on top.

_Dear Student,_

_Congratulations! You have been selected for admission to Columbia University_ -

Seishiro experienced a head rush and swayed on the spot before sinking into the nearest kitchen chair. He swallowed and breathed hard through his open mouth as he stared at the letter.

_You have been selected for admission to Columbia University… You have been selected for admission to Columbia University… You have been selected for admission to Columbia University…_

He lay back in his chair, covered his eyes with his hands and cried out in genuine, pure joy as relief flooded his body. He had done it. He looked around his grimy kitchen, but no, soon it wouldn't be his anymore. He'd be leaving. After dreaming about it and fantasizing about it and working so hard, he would actually be leaving. He knew another powerful surge of joy and wanted to scream, or cry, or, he didn't even know. He couldn't remember ever feeling this happy in his life and had no idea what to do about it. When he finally regained control of himself, he picked up the letter again and read all of it, over and over, the words uplifting him so much it was almost frightening.

Seishiro then reached for his acceptance package and looked at everything else in it. He found a smaller envelope in which he could send his reply as well as a booklet full of information and photographs. He scanned the pages eagerly, looking at the photos of where he'd be living come August. It was like another world; all the beautiful buildings sequestered away from the rest of the city in a sanitary, affluent bubble. For a moment, Seishiro's old worry about assimilating or remaining invisible resurfaced, but he ignored it. He'd worry about that once he got there, once he'd moved into his dorm and started taking classes. He clutched the booklet to his chest and lay back against the chair again, staring up at the cracks in his ceiling. _The_ ceiling.

A sudden scraping at the door announced Setsuka's early return from work. Seishiro whirled around to face her, and her eyes narrowed. "What's all that?" She asked, her voice low from cigarettes and tiredness. Seishiro swallowed. He'd imagined telling her about getting into school for years. He'd imagined her shock and fear, plus his own satisfaction. Now that the time had come, however, he felt apprehensive, like the happy feelings were all draining slowly away. "Seishiro?" He looked back at her determinedly.

"Do you want to sit down?" He asked her, cautiously. She rolled her eyes, but did so anyway, extracting a cigarette from the pack in her purse and lighting it.

"So?" She prompted, exhaling smoke. Seishiro took a deep breath in.

"I've been accepted to Columbia." He knew a ripple of pleasure as he said it out loud, then waited as patiently as he could for the words to penetrate. She narrowed her eyes and stared at him across the table.

"What?" Seishiro couldn't help but sigh.

"I've been accepted to Columbia for the fall semester. I'm going to go." Setsuka stared at him.

"Congratulations…" She replied, slowly.

"Thank you." She took another drag from her cigarette.

"So you're… You'll start school there in the fall?"

"Yeah."

"And… But you'll still live at home?" Seishiro sighed.

"No. I told you before, I'll dorm." He'd expected this, but it wasn't nearly as satisfying as he'd hoped. Setsuka's eyes widened.

"But you'll come back for the summer, right?" Seishiro felt himself withdraw and disconnect. He stared into his mother's face, more lined and tired looking than ever, yet still child like.

"No. I'll do summer housing or get an apartment."

"You're leaving me?" Setsuka asked. Her voice was small and frightened all of a sudden, and it seemed to ignite something inside Seishiro: an angry, resentful fuse that had been waiting for a spark.

"Yes, _Mother_ , I'm leaving you," he snapped, his heart pounding and hands shaking again. He stood up, and she withdrew, her eyes wide and fearful, the smoke from her cigarette still curling around her. "I'm getting out of this house and I'm never coming back! That's what you wanted, isn't it?! To get rid of me so you can go off with whichever guy?!" Her eyes filled with tears.

"Don't talk to me like that!" She cried. "I love you more than anything, Seishiro, how _dare_ you-" Seishiro let out a harsh, utterly contemptuous laugh.

" _Love_ me?! You never even wanted me! You never wanted me and now I'm leaving to do better for myself, so I don't end up like _you_!"

"I can't believe you'd do this to me!" Setsuka sobbed. "I can't believe you'd treat me this way!"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Seishiro yelled, right in her face, taking himself by surprise. Her eyes widened, alive with terror. "YOU NEVER CARED! NEVER! I'm _done_ with you, do you understand?! I can't _wait_ to be out of this disgusting fucking place, away from _you_ and all the worthless men you bring around, that's all you ever cared about!"

"STOP IT!" Setsuka screamed, covering her eyes with a shaking hand. "GET AWAY FROM ME IF YOU HATE ME SO MUCH! YOU CAN LEAVE TONIGHT FOR ALL I CARE!" Seishiro gathered his acceptance letter and everything that had come with it and held it to his chest.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Then when all those guys use you up you'll realize how FUCKED YOU ARE WITHOUT ME!" He stormed across the living room to his bedroom and slammed the door. He leaned his back against it, breathing hard through his nose, trying to regain control of himself. This should have been a happy moment, a moment of freedom, of new beginnings, and she was just angry he was leaving. Now, after all these years, she finally wanted to put him first. Fucking typical. Hatred burned so strongly in Seishiro's chest it almost hurt, but he didn't care. He was leaving. He was leaving. _He was leaving_.

Seishiro turned right around, opened the door and strode back across the living room to gather his things. Setsuka was still crying, and she called out to him, but it didn't even register as he left the apartment. He'd mail out his reply right now, and then he'd figure out his financial aid, and then he'd be _gone_.

It wasn't until he was halfway down his street that he even realized he'd started crying.

* * *

Seishiro replaced the soap and rinsed off, his skin clean and flushed and heart pounding in righteous anger. As he thought about it, those few minutes alone with his acceptance letter had been the happiest of his life. He'd never known such utter, all-consuming joy before, and he hadn't known it since. He could recall times when he'd been happy, certainly: getting promotions at work, buying this apartment, the splash of ocean waves, Subaru hurrying towards him in a hotel lobby…

Seishiro's eyes narrowed. Those things had brought him joy, but they had also brought him new responsibilities and challenges. Naturally, he'd met them head on, but… Well, it wasn't like happiness ever came without strings attached, anyway.

With his college acceptance, those strings had been Setsuka's devastation and fury. Rather than making Seishiro regretful or sympathetic, it just pushed him further away. It was her fault he was so desperate to leave, where did she get off begging him to stay?

They barely spoke the summer after Seishiro's high school graduation. He spent as much time as possible out of the house, making preparations and counting down the seconds until his move-in date.

His father still sent them money, either because he didn't know how old Seishiro was or because he was still scared of Setsuka outing him. Either way, Seishiro began stealing the checks each month and used the money and the ID he'd gotten from the DMV to open a bank account. It wasn't much of a start, but it was something. He might have been worried about Setsuka bringing it up, but that would have involved talking to him, which she still refused to do.

The night before he was to move into his dorm, Seishiro bought himself a suitcase. It was a hot, sultry August night, and the air hung heavy and sticky all around him, but he barely even noticed as he pulled the suitcase home. _All_ he could think of was the following morning, when he'd be dragging it to the train to go uptown to school. He heaved the suitcase up to his room and laid it on his bed, then looked around rather awkwardly. He wasn't sure what exactly he'd need; he'd never traveled before, much less moved away, but he'd figure it out.

He began emptying his chest of drawers, folding his clothes and putting them into the open suitcase. It suddenly occurred to him just how little he could really call his own. Setsuka bought him clothes, but would complain about the dire straits they were in financially if he ever needed anything else. Seishiro made a soft, contemptuous noise, then imagined making his own money and spending it how he saw fit.

"He'll be a good provider for his wife someday, he's so enterprising!" His teacher had said, a million years ago. Well, that ship had certainly sailed, though he doubted he'd find anyone worthy of his spending money anyway.

Seishiro cleaned out his top drawer last, and paused a moment. He found the two pieces of Blue, his favorite childhood toy, and the figure of the assassin character his old friend had given him in middle school. Seishiro exhaled softly and held them tenderly in his hands: two gifts, two relics of other brief, happy moments in his life. His chest constricted and his throat burned. Should he take them? He had no idea what he'd do with them, but he _hated_ to think of leaving them here. He exhaled softly again and tucked them into a side pocket of his suitcase. He knew it was ridiculous, but he didn't care.

He finished packing the rest of his things, zipped up his suitcase and lay on his bed, staring out of his window at the pink and orange sunset. This would be his last night falling asleep to this view, in this bed.

He heard Setsuka enter the apartment, but he didn't move. The door slammed, and he expected her to head straight down the hall, but she crossed the living room and came to stand in his doorway instead. She saw the suitcase beside the bed, and her eyes filled with tears. "Yes?" Seishiro asked, coldly. Without saying anything, she turned away and headed to her own room. Seishiro rolled his eyes and glared up at his ceiling, his heart pounding against his ribs.

The next morning, Seishiro woke up early to find Setsuka already at the kitchen table, smoking and looking lost. He ignored her, washing and dressing before doing one last check around to make sure he'd packed everything.

He stood in his room for the last time, then took hold of his suitcase and dragged it through his living room. At last, Setsuka spoke. "You're really leaving me, Seishiro?" She asked. Seishiro just pulled his suitcase to the door. "Seishiro!" He stopped, but didn't turn around.

"What?" He heard her get up and approach him, then felt her arms around him. He stiffened and knew a wave of revulsion as she began to cry. "Let go of me," he told her, his throat tight. She cried harder and rubbed her face into the back of his shirt. "Let go of me!" He repeated, more firmly.

"I'll always love you, you know!" She cried in a choked voice. Seishiro closed his eyes. "Even though you hate me now!" Seishiro made a disgusted noise and extricated himself from her embrace.

"Fuck you!" He wrenched the door open, but paused for one last look at her, crumpled, grieving and desperate, and felt absolutely nothing. He pulled his suitcase over the threshold and slammed the door in her face. He then stormed down the stairs, the crashing of his suitcase echoing off the dirty walls and inside his chest.

* * *

Seishiro could still hear the sound clearly. Or was that just the shower? Or Subaru slamming the door that very morning? He took a deep breath in and sighed it out, the steamy air heavy in his lungs.

He shuddered as he turned up the temperature of the water, rinsed off one last time and shut it off. He opened the glass door, intending to step into the tub, only to find it empty. "What the fuck…?" Hadn't he filled it before he'd gotten into the shower? Seishiro let out an impatient sigh and turned on the bath, then straightened up, his arms around himself and water sliding down his body. "Why the…" He started to say, but then remembered it was usually Subaru who drew baths for them. Subaru had always liked taking baths together.

Seishiro glared at the steadily filling tub, remembering the first time it had happened. It was after they'd met at the opera, after they'd had dinner the next night, after they'd spent the night after that fucking for hours, then lying next to each other, spent and satisfied. "Do you want to clean up?" Seishiro asked, and Subaru nodded, a slightly dazed look on his face in the soft light. He sat up, and Seishiro was about to add, "So I can call you a cab." However, Subaru kissed him before he could say anything, then withdrew, staring him hard in the face.

"Come with me," he breathed, blushing. Seishiro considered him, confused, but…

"Is that what you want?" Subaru nodded.

* * *

Seishiro turned off the water and slid into the bath. The heat seeped through his skin and into his beating heart and expanding and contracting lungs. He leaned against the back of the tub, staring straight ahead. He'd do this with Subaru too. Subaru would lie in between his legs with his back against his chest. It had been strange at first, just relaxing together in the hot water, but over time Seishiro had grown to appreciate it, just like falling asleep spooning him after fucking him senseless.

He'd also liked punishing Subaru by taking all that away.

Seishiro wondered what would happen when Subaru came back. Would he ask to be touched? Held and comforted? Fucked? Seishiro's lip curled. Of course he would, and he would deny him, just as he always did.

Very suddenly, he remembered Subaru coming back here drunk on Saturday night and swallowed a fresh rush of disgust. That had been so _unlike_ him, where had it even come from? ' _Kamui_ ,' he thought at once, answering his own question. Kamui had led Subaru away, into this life that didn't suit him: coming home all hours of the night, drunk and needy. It was pathetic, but at least Subaru was aware he'd done wrong.

Seishiro had stayed up reading and smoking, waiting for Subaru to return from wherever he'd been with Kamui. He had no idea how long he'd be; he didn't bother to give him a return time. However, just before midnight, Subaru had burst into the apartment, then run down the hallway to stand in the bedroom doorway. He was still wearing his coat and looked fearful, out of breath and desperate. "There you are," Seishiro said. "Did you have a good night?" Subaru didn't answer, and Seishiro narrowed his eyes at his book. "How was your night?" He asked again, feeling a ripple of anger. Still Subaru said nothing, and it made Seishiro angrier. He turned a page, and the sound echoed in the tense silence. Subaru had some nerve.

"F-fine," came his shaky reply.

' _I'm sure_ ,' Seishiro thought, spitefully, though out loud he said, "I'm glad." Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Subaru take off his coat and hang it on the back of the door. He finished his cigarette and wondered what Subaru would do next, how he'd apologize. Subaru climbed into bed and approached him on his hands and knees.

"Seishiro?"

"What?" He saw Subaru wince and knew a rush of cold satisfaction. Subaru reached out and touched his arm.

"Seishiro, I-" Seishiro snapped his gaze to Subaru, feeling the touch up his arm like a crawling insect. Subaru shuddered in fear, and it only made Seishiro angrier. "Can, can we…?" Seishiro knew a fresh surge of disgust. How _dare_ he ask for this now?! Seishiro shut his book with a snap and placed it on the bedside table. Then, quick as a flash, he grabbed Subaru by the shoulders, slammed him down onto the bed and climbed on top of him. Subaru cried out, clearly terrified, but it did nothing to soften Seishiro.

"Is this what you want?" He asked, putting his face very close to Subaru's and inhaling the alcohol on his breath with a surge of fury.

"Y-yes!" Subaru gasped, and Seishiro tightened his grip on his shoulders.

" _No_ ," he spat, utterly contemptuous. He rolled off of Subaru and picked up his book again. He was angry, but he was in control of it; he'd meant to do all of that. Of course, it all could have been avoided if Subaru hadn't been out all night, hadn't let someone else intrude and lead him astray. "You're drunk, go eat something." Subaru lay flat on his back, seemingly paralyzed, until he finally got up and left the room, shutting the door behind him. Seishiro listened to him moving about the living room, then, very faintly, heard him start to cry. Anger continued to course through Seishiro, though it was righteous and satisfying. He finished the chapter he'd been reading, placed his book and glasses on the bedside table and turned out the light.

He'd woken up hours later to find Subaru standing beside the bed, looking down at him, frightened and longing. "Subaru? Get in bed." Subaru obeyed at once, and Seishiro rolled over and spooned him. He'd come back, just as he'd known he would. ' _Yes_ ,' Seishiro told him mentally. ' _You're mine. Don't do that again_.' Subaru began to cry again as Seishiro was falling asleep, but he still felt no sympathy. Subaru should feel bad. He should cry.

And then the next morning he'd tried to end their relationship.

"Because I'm unhappy," he'd said.

* * *

Seishiro's heart rate spiked very suddenly. He gripped his knees and pulled himself up into a sitting position, causing the bathwater to lap up and down the sides of the tub.

Ridiculous.

He had done everything for Subaru, how could he be unhappy? What else did he want? Why had he been led astray? A weird gnawing began in Seishiro's chest. You just couldn't count on people. He'd known that since before he was even born, when his father had rejected him. He'd then had the point illustrated further by all of Setsuka's boyfriends leaving. Then, once he'd grown up, there had been countless coworkers, guys he'd fucked and random others.

It suddenly occurred to Seishiro that the only person _he'd_ been the one to leave was Setsuka. He had escaped her, cut her adrift, even if it had taken him twenty-two years to do it.

Subaru didn't really count because he was coming back, but what about…? Seishiro shuddered and gripped his knees. Would his mind really force him to relive all that? Why wouldn't it cooperate? When was Subaru coming back?!

Seishiro covered his face with his hands and pressed his palms into his eyes. Immediately, he saw the ugly, orange inside of the 1 train he'd caught at Columbus Circle, the grandeur of his new home on the Upper West Side, his small but bright dorm and classrooms… He remembered it all like an overwhelming, embarrassing cyclone. He'd felt _desperately_ out of place, surrounded by such history, affluence and elitism. At first, he tried to see it all as a new beginning: he didn't know anyone, and no one knew him, he could be and do what he wanted. However, he _hated_ his fellow students.

He felt like he was watching them through a sheet of glass, like a mindless school of fish in an aquarium. They all had the same background, the same story, the same skills, and Seishiro was once again isolated by his strangeness, his inescapable otherness. Not that it bothered him; to his immense relief, he could still remain invisible.

The only person who seemed even slightly aware of him was his roommate, though they didn't talk much. He was out of the room most of the time, but he was never loud or disruptive when he came back. Seishiro didn't know where he went, but he was quite popular, and understandably so: he was _very_ good looking and deeply charismatic. He had an aura about him, a _pull_.

* * *

Seishiro kept his hands over his eyes and felt his heart throb in his chest. His college roommate was one of very few people from his past he didn't hate thinking about occasionally, who he was almost sad about losing track of.

"Hey, did you finish that econ assignment?" Seishiro was in his dorm room, at his desk working on stats homework. Fuuma had come back from class a moment ago and thrown himself onto his desk chair to work too. He placed his foot up on the desk and leaned back so the chair was on two legs, looking charismatic as ever.

"Yeah, last night," Seishiro replied. Fuuma stretched his arms above his head, pulling up his shirt and revealing his hipbones. Seishiro swallowed.

"What did you get for this question?" Fuuma asked, bringing the chair upright again with a dull crash.

"Which one?" Seishiro asked, rather apprehensively. Fuuma smiled and held out his textbook. "Um, never mind let me just check." Seishiro reached for his own textbook, extracted the assignment he'd stuck in there and handed it over.

"Fuck me, I completely screwed this up," Fuuma said, wearily, handing the assignment back. Seishiro smiled in spite of himself. "Thanks."

"Sure." A moment's silence passed.

"Your major's financial engineering, right?"

"Yes," Seishiro replied, though he couldn't remember ever telling him this. Fuuma smiled, and his heart sped up.

"Do you know what you want to do?" Seishiro thought for a second.

"Not really." They looked at each other, and Seishiro knew a moment of uncharacteristic curiosity. "What about you?" Fuuma smiled an almost knowing smile that slightly discomposed Seishiro, though he couldn't look away.

"I just want to make money. If this doesn't get me anywhere I'll sell drugs or something." Seishiro had no idea if he was joking. However, Fuuma didn't have that air of wanting to shock and horrify that Seishiro found so tedious. He meant to return to his stats homework, but- "What are you doing Friday night?" Seishiro looked up at him incredulously; sure he'd misheard.

"What?" Fuuma smiled his enigmatic smile.

"What are you doing Friday night?"

"Um, work?"

"You wanna come to a party off campus instead?" Seishiro's eyes widened.

"N-no, that's fine," he replied at once, before he could even think about it. Fuuma tilted his head to the side.

"Next time, then."

However, it wasn't until the very end of the semester that Seishiro finally said yes.

Fuuma was leaving for Christmas break the following morning, and Seishiro was lying in bed watching him pack over the top of a book. "I won't see you for what, a month? Come on, just one drink and then I swear I'll leave you alone." Seishiro sighed, still discomforted by someone so insistent on spending time with him. He locked eyes with Fuuma, fully intending to say no, but faltered under his gaze and his pull. A moment's silence passed.

"Fine." Fuuma smiled, obviously pleased. Seishiro got up, put on his coat and followed him out the door. People called out to Fuuma as they headed down the hall and out of their dorm, and Seishiro felt like he was under a spotlight. However, Fuuma waved everyone away, for which he was grateful. "Where exactly is this party?" Seishiro asked, shivering in the December chill as they walked across campus.

"My friend's place. Her parents are out of town." They proceeded down Broadway, past more groups of students. Everyone looked exhausted, but seemed to be talking excitedly about the upcoming break. More people called out to Fuuma, but he ignored them. After a few minutes, they were buzzed up into a very nice building on 112th Street. Seishiro looked around curiously as they climbed the stairs. The paint on the lobby walls was fresh, the floors were clean and the overhead light actually worked. "Here," Fuuma said, indicating a door on the fifth floor. He knocked, and immediately they were greeted by a young woman Seishiro recognized from school. She had long black hair and wore a tight dress that revealed yards of cleavage. She threw her arms around Fuuma and kissed him on the lips.

"I was waiting forever," she whined, when they broke apart.

"You say that like it's my fucking problem," he replied. She rolled her eyes and let go of him, then spotted Seishiro. "This is my roommate. Keep your hands to yourself you horny fucking bitch." She gave Fuuma a very nasty look, and Seishiro wasn't sure whether to laugh or not.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Kanoe," she said, looking Seishiro up and down. "Come in, come in."

"Stay close to me," Fuuma muttered to Seishiro, and he felt a rush of gratitude as they entered Kanoe's living room. It was dimly lit with Christmas lights all over the walls, though Seishiro had the impression it was her parents who had picked out the old fashioned furniture and ugly, austere art. Everyone greeted Fuuma as they made their way over to the drinks table, and he gave them gracious smiles or rude hand gestures, but said nothing. Seishiro could still feel his pull even as he was brushing them off. "What are you drinking?"

"What? Oh…" Seishiro had no idea what to say; his last drink had been what he'd stolen from Setsuka and her boyfriend all those years ago. Fuuma just smiled in that knowing way that both discomposed Seishiro and made his heart pound.

"Here," he said, mixing something and handing it to him.

"Thanks." Seishiro took a sip. It was way better than he'd expected and he felt a flush run up his face and neck. He and Fuuma sat down on the couch and immediately were swarmed by people. Seishiro shrank away, withdrawing into himself and sipping his drink nervously. However, it was much easier to stay invisible with Fuuma next to him, smiling and conversing and laughing. It was rather mesmerizing, and with no one to notice him, Seishiro could just watch quietly. He didn't feel nearly as awkward as he might have done.

Finally, the crowd of people dissipated, either distracted by Kanoe or put off when Fuuma made it clear he didn't want to talk to them anymore. Fuuma reached into his pocket and pulled out a carton of cigarettes. "I didn't know you smoked," Seishiro blurted out, then felt his face burn. Fuuma just smiled at him.

"Only in certain situations. You want one?" Seishiro hesitated, thinking of Setsuka, but he swallowed as he watched Fuuma light one for himself and inhale.

"Um, sure, thank you." Fuuma handed him a cigarette and lit it for him. Seishiro inhaled, the scent and taste familiar and the effect soothing. Around him, party guests chattered and music played, but it was all meaningless noise. He felt strangely grounded next to Fuuma, this stable, fearless, person.

"This totally isn't your thing, is it?" Fuuma asked, and Seishiro felt hot in the face again.

"No," he replied, taking a hasty drag from his cigarette. Fuuma smiled, and Seishiro's heart leapt.

"I don't blame you, I fucking hate all these people." Seishiro narrowed his eyes.

"What?" Fuuma cast a contemptuous look around the room.

"They're worthless, don't you think? But somehow they believe they got here because they're special. Like they didn't have it fucking easy." Seishiro kept smoking, the words stirring something inside him. He stared at Fuuma, who stared back, and they seemed to understand each other. However, Seishiro was still suspicious.

"You talk to them like it's nothing, though," he said, bluntly, feeling expansive under Fuuma's pull, the nicotine and the alcohol. Fuuma just smiled and took deep drag from his cigarette. He exhaled smoke rings, then leaned close to Seishiro and spoke right in his ear.

"You get farther if you keep your hate to yourself." Seishiro shivered, but the words seemed to click into place in his brain.

"Fair enough," he replied, quietly. In the center of the room, Kanoe had turned up the music and people were taking shots and dancing. Instantly, Seishiro had had enough. "Um, I'm gonna go I think," he said, finishing his cigarette and putting it out in the ashtray on the coffee table.

"I'll come with you."

"What? No, I'm fine-"

"I just came here to make an appearance," Fuuma cut in, staring Seishiro hard in the face. "They've seen me. We can leave." His tone was impossible to contradict, and Seishiro just nodded, feeling grateful in spite of himself. They gathered their things and slipped out of the apartment without saying goodbye to anyone. Seishiro wondered if this would have been socially acceptable with anyone besides Fuuma, then wondered if that was stupid.

They emerged onto a freezing 112th Street, a cold wind skinning their hands and faces. Seishiro folded his arms across his chest, shivering as he walked side by side with Fuuma, watching him but not speaking. Two older men in suits passed them in the opposite direction, and Fuuma sneered and blew them a kiss over his shoulder. Seishiro raised his eyebrows, then flushed as Fuuma turned to look at him. However, Fuuma just shrugged. "I picked up the one in black downtown on 10th Avenue when I was bored last month," he said, easily. "I just wondered if he remembered." Seishiro's eyes widened, but he said nothing. Really, what could he even say to that? Why had Fuuma brought it up at all? They walked back across campus towards their dorm, and Seishiro felt suddenly nervous. Was this all a ploy? Did he care?

However, they didn't say anything else to each other as they got ready for bed. Seishiro lay down and faced the wall, his drunk mind spinning, showing him half formed images of Fuuma crawling into bed beside him as he fell asleep. However, when Seishiro woke up the next morning, Fuuma was already gone.

* * *

Seishiro slid down the side of the tub so the hot water came to just below his chin. He swallowed, the same confusing feelings churning inside him as they had done all those years ago. In retrospect, considering how they'd said goodbye, maybe he and Fuuma…

Seishiro swallowed again. They had respected each other and stayed out of each other's way, and Seishiro had enjoyed what time they did spend together. Plus, Fuuma was so good with people even through his contempt; it was helpful to watch.

Seishiro held work-study jobs his entire time at college, which forced him to participate as much as he wanted to remain invisible. However, he took Fuuma's advice from the party deeply to heart and found it really did make things easier.

"You seemed really cold at first," one of his coworkers told him during the spring semester of his freshman year. "But you're actually really cool to talk to." Seishiro smiled and seethed with contempt.

"I'm just shy," he replied. She smiled back, and they fell silent.

"Um, Seishiro?" She asked, after a moment.

"Yes?"

"Would you maybe want to go out sometime?" Seishiro met her gaze, feeling utterly perplexed, but managed to keep his composure.

"I'm sorry?" His coworker blushed.

"Would you want to go out sometime, like, for dinner maybe?" She asked, hopefully. Seishiro organized his face into something regretful.

"Oh, I'm really sorry," he told her, convincingly sincere. "I'm seeing someone." Her face fell, but she recovered herself.

"It's okay, I just figured it was worth a shot."

"I'm sorry," he said again, and she just smiled rather sadly.

Of course, it wasn't a total lie.

During winter break, Seishiro had started hanging around downtown by the river, just like Fuuma did. He remembered taking the train down to 14th Street some night in December and how cold it had been as he'd walked further and further west. However, he kept his head up, looking around and trying to ignore the way his stomach was twisting and lurching. He got checked out immediately and stared back, keeping his contempt inside for warmth.

* * *

Seishiro exhaled through his nose, his breath forming ripples on the surface of the bathwater. Was that the night he'd gotten into that guy's car and blown him over the gearshift? No, that first time he'd been fucked up against the side of an old meatpacking plant. Seishiro shuddered as he remembered how cold it had been.

Picking up guys like that was both easier and more addictive than he thought it'd be, and he got better at it each night. "You want to fuck me, don't you?" He'd ask, and they'd say yes, or kiss him, or just moan softly. It always made Seishiro feel powerful, playing seductive even in a submissive role, forcing these weak, pathetic men to act on their desires. They _wanted_ him, or least, they wanted what he could give them, which came to the same thing, really.

Seishiro's stomach squirmed uncomfortably as more and more of these encounters floated up to the surface of his memory. The unselfish of these men would always make him come, though truthfully he wished they wouldn't. He didn't need them to; they weren't there for his pleasure, and acting like they cared was rather insulting.

As Seishiro sifted through the sea of business suits, excuses and night air, one encounter in particular stood out. Yet another shiver began at the back of his neck and radiated outwards through his body, making him wonder if he'd be sick again. He sat up straight, hugged his knees to his chest and rested his chin upon him, apparently unable to resist.

It was the summer after his freshman year, and Seishiro was living in a sublet by school. Tonight, he'd made one of his regular trips downtown and was picked up by a good looking older man in a nice car. On some level, Seishiro was aware of how dangerous this all was, but he didn't care. As they drove up towards Central Park, Seishiro was already disconnecting, withdrawing into himself. The only real things were the cigarette he was sucking on and the smoke he was exhaling out of the car window.

Seishiro's pick up checked them into a very nice hotel room, and their time together started off as usual: Seishiro whispered, "Are you going to fuck me?" in a soft, needy voice. His pick up smiled and pressed him up against the wall. His stomach muscles pulled in as his pick up shoved his hands up his shirt and pressed his lips against his neck, inhaling deeply through his nose.

"Do you like getting fucked?" Seishiro groaned theatrically, wanting to hurry this along.

"Yes…" His pick up withdrew and kissed him on the lips. It took Seishiro by surprise, but at least it didn't last long. His pick up withdrew and stared at him hard in the face.

"God you're beautiful," he whispered, and Seishiro's heart seemed to skip. "Strip, I want to see all of you." Seishiro's heart skipped again, then beat faster as his pick up pulled away. He undressed, feeling self-conscious for the first time; sex always happened at least partially clothed. He stood there, feeling his pick up's eyes all over him, drinking him in. "So perfect." Seishiro flushed in spite of himself.

"Aren't I?" He asked, his lip curling, trying to regain control. His pick up laughed and rolled his hips forward.

"Hands and knees." Seishiro got into bed and obeyed. His heart beat faster than ever as he heard his pick up undress and get into position behind him. He swallowed. He knew it was supposed to hurt; it didn't bother him, he was used to it by now. His pick up grabbed onto his ass and spread him apart. He felt suddenly shaky, though he had no idea why, he wasn't-

"A-ah!" Seishiro cried out completely by accident. Instead of his fingers or erection, his pick up had pressed his tongue up against him, then swirled it around. Seishiro shivered and went _very_ red, feeling himself get completely hard.

"You like that, don't you?" His pick up asked, and Seishiro knew a sudden surge of anger. He didn't like it or his reaction to it. He wanted to get up, but his pick up held him in place and was back for more. Seishiro bit down on his forearm to keep from making any noise. His entire body seized up as though fighting the pleasure that was making his erection throb. He felt exposed, vulnerable as he'd never been before and he _hated_ it. He wanted to stop, but of course he couldn't say so. His pick up pressed his tongue inside, and Seishiro bit back another cry. He wanted to disengage, retreat into his body, but the sensations forced him to stay present. His toes curled and he felt hot all over as he gripped the bed sheets so hard his knuckles were white.

"Mm!" He cried out through tightly pressed lips, screwing up his eyes and throwing his head back. Anger, disgust and pleasure churned his mind, forced him to surrender even as he was fighting it as hard as he could. He hated the noises he was making, so small and needy and shameful.

"It's good, isn't it?" His pick up asked, finally pulling away and giving Seishiro's ass a squeeze. Seishiro gasped for breath, trying desperately to regain control of himself even as he was flushed and shivery and his erection _begged_ to be touched.

"Do you do that to your wife too?" He asked, the spite in his voice tempered by his obvious arousal. His pick up just laughed and rolled Seishiro onto his back. Seishiro stared up at him defiantly, trying his best to look disdainful.

"Of course," he replied, retrieving a bottle of lube from the pocket of his discarded pants. He lubed himself up and threw Seishiro's legs over his shoulders. Seishiro shut his eyes, turned away and gripped the bed sheets on either side of him, anticipating. "She doesn't taste as good as you, though." He thrust inside and threw his head back, digging his fingernails into Seishiro's thighs and waiting a moment. " _God_ you're so perfect!" He pulled out and thrust back in.

"Ah! F-fuck…!" Seishiro screwed up his eyes; this was different-

"It feels good, doesn't it?" Seishiro knew it was pointless to contradict him, not when his actions were making him moan and sweat and shiver. However, Seishiro wouldn't answer, he wouldn't give him the satisfaction. "It's okay to like it," his pick up said, reaching between them to take hold of Seishiro's erection and making his toes curl. Before he knew what was happening, Seishiro came harder than he had done in a long time, and it was like nothing he'd ever felt before. His pick up came soon after with a low, guttural moan and collapsed on top of Seishiro without pulling out, breathing in his ear. "So good…" He whispered, and Seishiro swallowed, stiff under his weight. He allowed his pick up a few seconds to recover, then,

"Could you pull out?" His pick up laughed softly, straightened up and did so. Seishiro sat up at once, wincing and swallowing a fresh wave of disgust. His pick up reclined against the headboard and Seishiro could feel his eyes on the back of his neck as he walked into the bathroom. He wiped away the river of cum on his belly with a wad of toilet paper, then returned to the other room to get dressed.

"Where are you going?" His pick up asked, but Seishiro kept his eyes averted.

"Home. I have work in the morning." He made sure he had his wallet, keys and cigarettes.

"Could I see you again?" Seishiro looked around in confusion.

"What?" His pick up was smiling at him.

"Could we meet up another time?" Still, Seishiro didn't understand. "For more of this?" Seishiro shuddered.

"No thank you." And he was out the door.

He emerged onto a dark, hazy 57th Street, then walked as fast as he dared back across town. He felt strangely in his body: in the residual pleasure, in the uncomfortable sting, in his pounding heart, though at the same time he was totally disconnected. He just wanted to be back in his apartment, away from that man and what he had done to him.

"Do you like getting fucked?"

Seishiro's stomach clenched as he remembered. It had all felt so much better than usual, but without the power high afterwards he felt, not ashamed, but…

He flushed and felt his throat constrict painfully. He couldn't go back downtown anymore, not when he might see that man again. He'd make due without sex, it wasn't like he enjoyed it much anyway, and he was used to being alone.

Seishiro paused on 6th Avenue and 59th Street to light a cigarette. To his right, Central Park looked dark and forbidding, even as people still walked along the perimeter. They all moved in happy, chattering groups and Seishiro's throat constricted painfully again. He sucked defiantly on his cigarette, his heart throbbing and eyes burning as he continued west. He knew he was strange, and he was used to feeling alone in his strangeness, yet…

He finished his cigarette and entered the train station at Columbus Circle. He had to wait fifteen minutes for the 1 train, but was home quickly after that. He fell into bed, fully clothed, listening to the night sounds outside, unfamiliar and unpleasant emotions crashing inside him.

* * *

Seishiro squeezed his knees more tightly. Why had that man reached out? What had he thought would happen? _How_ could he think Seishiro would have agreed? He shifted uncomfortably and placed his forehead on his knees. Subaru had been the one to reach out too.

"Come with me."

"I'm yours, Seishiro, if you'll have me."

"I want to go back with you."

Seishiro's chest constricted. Subaru had insisted on staying over, inserting himself into Seishiro's life and coming here, only to leave him like everyone else. Anger flared in Seishiro's chest, but it had no room to burn in the constriction. He breathed deeply through his nose, trying to regain control of himself.

"Hokuto doesn't think I should, but I don't care! I love you, Seishiro, there's no one else for me!" Subaru had burst into Seishiro's hotel room and said they needed to talk, and Seishiro hadn't really known what to do except lead him out to the balcony to calm down. Subaru clutched the railing and Seishiro stood with his hand on his lower back, both of them staring out over Tokyo. Under the sea of lights swam the mass of unhappy people, just like New York.

"Are you sure?" Seishiro asked, looking perplexedly at Subaru, who turned to face him. "I didn't ask you for that," he reminded him.

"I know that, this is my choice!" Subaru replied, rather fiercely, but then flushed, looking like he might cry. Seishiro sighed and pulled him into an embrace, his heart pounding all of a sudden.

"I'll fly you over in January."

* * *

Seishiro's anger burned itself out, or was suffocated, leaving the inside of his chest charred and hollow, it- It didn't hurt. He was angry with Subaru. Subaru had made promises, then gone back on them. Had Seishiro been stupid to believe him? No, definitely not, because Subaru was coming back! Besides, Seishiro had learned…

He dug his fingernails into his legs and held himself more tightly. He'd learned in his final semester of college not to take actions like that seriously, even though supposedly they spoke louder than words.

"Do you wanna go to the opera?"

"What?" Fuuma smiled.

"Do you wanna go to the opera? I have tickets and no one to go with." Seishiro rolled his eyes and reclined in his desk chair.

"Wouldn't you rather bring Kanoe?" He asked, testily.

"You know I like you better than her. Come to the opera with me."

"So romantic," Seishiro replied, his lip curling, and Fuuma laughed.

"You think Madame Butterfly's romantic?"

"Madame Butterfly?" Seishiro met Fuuma's gaze at last, and he smiled his enigmatic smile.

"Yeah, why?" Seishiro looked away, though he still felt Fuuma's pull.

"Nothing, I just saw it when I was in middle school." Fuuma strode across the room to lean against the edge of Seishiro's desk.

"So you know how good it is." Seishiro looked up at him, more aware of his pull than ever.

"Fine."

That Friday night, Fuuma and Seishiro got dressed up and took the 1 train down to 66th Street. Seishiro hadn't been there since middle school, and though it had always been a nice area, it seemed to have gotten richer. Fortunately, Seishiro didn't feel nearly as out of place this time, not in his nice suit with the degree from Columbia he'd be receiving soon. He was also with Fuuma, who was a chameleon, able to fit in anywhere and bring Seishiro with him despite his strangeness.

They picked up their tickets from the box office and took their seats in the orchestra. "These are really good seats," Seishiro said, appreciatively, wondering how Fuuma had gotten them, but he just smiled a satisfied smile.

"I got a new job, figured I'd treat myself." Before Seishiro could ask for details, Fuuma reached across him and pressed a button on the screen set into the back of the seat in front of him. "Subtitles."

"Oh…" The lights overhead flashed, and the show began shortly after. Seishiro remembered the songs and characters, though the cast and production were different. He watched again the American soldier move in on Butterfly, seduce her with words and promises, then use her for one night. His stomach twisted uncomfortably, but he ignored it, listening to the music that was even more beautiful than he remembered.

The first act ended, and the applause and cheers were deafening. "You wanna go back to the lobby?" Fuuma asked. Seishiro just shrugged, but got up and followed him. They stood beside one of the bars, but didn't order anything, exchanging a few words about the show. Seishiro looked around, feeling a weird ache in his chest. Things had certainly changed since the last time he'd been here.

Completely by accident, he caught the eye of a handsome older man across the room, who gave him an intrigued and knowing look. Seishiro looked away at once, though he could still feel the man's eyes on him. It had been a long time since he'd been checked out like that. He looked up again, and the man smiled. Seishiro hesitated a moment, then told Fuuma, as if on reflex, "I'm gonna go smoke, I'll be back," though his gaze was still across the room. Fuuma smirked, but all he said was,

"Cool." Keeping his eyes locked on the older man, Seishiro tilted his head in the direction of the front doors and headed back outside. He walked to the fountain and lit up.

"Can I bum one of those?" Seishiro turned, and found the handsome older man standing beside him.

"Sure." Seishiro offered him a cigarette from his pack and lit it for him.

"What's your name?"

"Seishiro."

"That's pretty." Seishiro resisted rolling his eyes and shook the man's hand as he introduced himself, noticing his eyes were green. "Is this your first time here?" He asked, giving Seishiro's hand a squeeze.

"First time in a long time," he replied. The man nodded, smoking.

"Are you here alone?"

"Do you want me to be?" The man smiled.

"Not tonight, I have company, but maybe tomorrow?" Seishiro's lip curled and he tilted his head to the side.

"Where?" They made plans to meet as they finished their cigarettes.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Seishiro." Seishiro watched him go, then wondered if this was a massive error in judgment. All the feelings brought on by previous encounters seemed to be creeping into his body, and yet… He knew he'd go tomorrow. It had been a long time; his body might be more cooperative after getting denied for so long.

He threw the butt of his cigarette onto the ground and stepped on it before going back inside and locating Fuuma. He was still smirking, but Seishiro ignored him as they returned to their seats for the second act.

Again, Seishiro saw Butterfly realize she'd been had, apologize to her son and take her own life. He applauded hard with everyone else, thinking, not for the first time, that she'd made the better choice than he had.

The next night, Seishiro made his way to the hotel where he and his pick up had agreed to meet. He knocked on the door and was immediately let inside, then pushed up against a wall. "Hi," his pick up said, kissing him hard on the lips. Seishiro stiffened slightly as memories of previous encounters flooded his mind and body. However, he suppressed them and forced himself to kiss back. Soon enough, it did start to feel good, especially considering how long it had been since he'd done anything. They broke apart, breathing heavily.

"Are you going to fuck me?" Seishiro asked, tilting his head to the side. His pick up gave him a furtive look.

"Actually," he began, slowly, and Seishiro wondered what was coming. "Do you top, by any chance?" Seishiro's eyes widened, but he recovered himself at once.

"Excuse me?" He asked, just to make sure he'd heard correctly. His pick up kissed him.

"Do you top?" Yes, that had in fact been what he'd said. Seishiro swallowed. He'd never done it before, he'd never known he _could_ , but it wasn't like he didn't know _how_ …

"Of course I do," he breathed, making his voice low and commanding. "You want me to fuck you?" His pick up nodded, breathing faster now. He tried to kiss Seishiro, but he pressed his first two fingers to the man's lips. It was all instinct, but they both seemed to like it. Seishiro wondered how far he could push him, what all he could do. "Get undressed," he tried. His pick up gasped and obeyed at once, and Seishiro felt a surge of power in both his chest and his erection. He liked this.

His pick up lay back on the bed, legs spread and exposed, and Seishiro drank him in, starting to understand where all those men who had fucked him were coming from. "I have condoms and lube here," his pick up said, his voice heavy with arousal even though Seishiro had barely touched him. "I don't fuck raw." Seishiro nodded, picked up the bottle of lube and climbed into bed between the man's legs. He squeezed some of the liquid onto his fingers and pressed them up against him. He hesitated for a moment.

"Do you need a lot of prep? Or do you like taking dick so much you're stretched out?" His pick up threw his head back with a soft moan and Seishiro knew another surge of power as he pressed his fingers inside. "You let people speak to you that way? How shameful." Again, his pick up just moaned and thrust his hips up, looking for more friction. "Is this what you want?" Seishiro asked, finding his sweet spot. His pick up cried out and tightened around his fingers. Seishiro swallowed, imagining these sensations around his erection and feeling it twitch. "Answer me." Seishiro had no idea when he would cross a line, or even _if_ he'd cross a line, but he didn't care. He was more turned on than he'd ever been in his life and was at last beginning to understand why people did all of this.

"Yes!" His pick up cried. "I want you inside me!" Seishiro bit back a gasp.

"How bad do you want it?"

"So bad!"

"Shameful…" Seishiro removed his fingers, undid his pants with his other hand and reached for a condom. He slid it on, lubed himself up, then got into position. "I'm going to fuck you now," he breathed, and his pick up pressed the soles of his feet into the bed to lift his hips up. Seishiro's lip curled.

It was harder getting in than he thought it'd be, but once he managed it he had to fight with his body not to come on the spot. The hot, tight pressure around his erection was like nothing he'd ever felt before and he _loved_ it. He moved his hips in and out, barely registering that his pick up was moaning. All he could think of was his own pleasure and how absolutely amazing he was feeling.

"Harder!" The word seemed to reach Seishiro and he sneered down at his pick up as he moved even faster. He panted and gasped, pleasure coursing through his body.

"Take it," Seishiro said through clenched teeth. " _Take it_."

"Give it to me! Give it to me hard!" His pick up moaned, stroking his own erection.

"Fuck!" Seishiro managed to stop _right_ at the edge. He pulled out, ripped off the condom and came all over his pick up's erection and belly. His pick up screwed up his eyes and shuddered as he came a split second later with a deep, hard moan. Seishiro sat back on his heels, watching through his haze of satisfaction, taking in all that he'd done.

Yes. _This_ he understood. _This_ he'd do again. _This_ he'd seek out. His pick up swallowed, then slowly pressed himself to a sitting position. "Fuck," he said, softly, green eyes glazed. Seishiro's lip curled as they looked at each other.

"Do you want a cigarette?"

* * *

Seishiro let go of his legs and lay his back against the tub, stretching out as best he could. He'd stayed the night in the hotel room with that pick up, which he'd never done before, and they'd had sex three more times before falling asleep next to each other. He stared up at his bathroom ceiling, remembering saying goodbye the next morning.

"Um, thanks," he said, rather awkwardly.

"Thank _you_ ," his pick up replied. "Do you want to meet up here next weekend? Same time?" Seishiro hesitated, but then smiled knowingly.

"Is that what you want?"

"Yes." Seishiro kissed him.

"So shameful." The phrase was almost affectionate.

* * *

Seishiro rolled over onto his side, finding an almost fetal position in the tub. He remembered feeling satisfied and strangely light on the train ride back to school, reliving the night before over and over.

He returned to his dorm and found Fuuma there waiting for him, though they said nothing to each other. Not that Seishiro would have given him details if he'd asked, anyway. Although Seishiro had become better at talking to people and feigning openness, he still kept his guard up at all times, even around Fuuma.

However, over the next few months, he found it was easier to be secretive when you actually had a secret worth keeping.

He started meeting with that pick up, who he always thought of as his married man, almost weekly, and those few hours sustained him through his final semester of college. He had so much schoolwork as well as his work study job, but he always carved out time. He could vent all of his stress and tension into their time together, and it was more gratifying than he ever could have imagined.

"Don't come when you fuck your wife," Seishiro breathed, right in his ear. He had him bent over the bathroom sink in yet another hotel room, one hand at his throat, the other around his erection. He pulled out, then thrust deep inside again. "Come only for me, do you understand?"

"Yes!" Seishiro's lip curled. The commands, threats and humiliation seemed to fill a need for both of them. Seishiro didn't have feelings for this man, necessarily, but he liked what he got out of their time together, which he supposed was the same thing, but- "When is your graduation, Seishiro?" His married man asked, thoughtfully, as they lay side by side in a hotel room by Times Square. The bright lights outside the windows illuminated the smooth lines of the modern furniture and the soft angles of their bodies.

"Next month," Seishiro replied indifferently, taking a drag from his cigarette. "I'm not walking though, it's a waste of time." His married man laughed and placed a gentle kiss on his shoulder.

"Do you have time after? Or are you going straight to work?" Seishiro exhaled smoke, confused.

"I got a job through my work study, but I don't start until the end of June," he replied, narrowing his eyes. "Why?" His married man ran his fingertips up and down Seishiro's chest a few times.

"Do you want to go somewhere together before you get too busy?"

"What?" Seishiro asked, positive he'd misheard. His married man smiled.

"Do you want to go away for a weekend or something, just the two of us?" He kissed Seishiro's breastbone before he could protest. "Somewhere quiet and warm." He kissed Seishiro's belly. "Where we don't have to sneak around." He kissed the top of Seishiro's thigh. "And we can just do this…" He kissed the base of Seishiro's rapidly forming erection and Seishiro looked down at him incredulously.

"Are you serious?" His married man looked him in the face.

"Completely." Seishiro grabbed him by the hair and forced his erection into his mouth.

"I'll think about it."

And so he did, way more than he'd expected to. He'd go back and forth, one second thinking it was a crazy, ridiculous idea, then the next planning all the things he'd like to do to his married man once they didn't have to be quiet. Seishiro had never travelled anywhere, but was this the way to do it? Weren't they crossing some line? Would it even happen at all? Or was this just an empty promise? However, his married man seemed weirdly sincere; his eyes would shine, green and hopeful, whenever he'd bring it up. "We could go upstate, or to South Jersey, I've got a house there. It isn't much, but once you get your passport I'll take you to the Caribbean or something…" Seishiro flushed in spite of himself. He couldn't help but find the words seductive. Finally, after weeks of talking, he agreed.

"Let's go." His married man smiled a disconcertingly genuine smile and kissed him on the lips.

A week later, Seishiro was cleaning out his dorm room, packing everything into his suitcase for the last time. "I'm going to miss you, Seishiro," Fuuma said, lying in bed and watching him. He wouldn't move out until the following week. Seishiro rolled his eyes.

"I'm sure you'll keep busy." Fuuma laughed, heaved himself out of bed and came to stand in front of him.

"Obviously, but still." They looked at each other.

"You're going travelling, right?" Seishiro asked, closing his suitcase and zipping it up.

"Yeah, doing some field research," Fuuma replied, his lip curling. Seishiro looked up at him and felt his power, his pull. He thought about asking for details, but resisted. "What about you, going straight to work?" Seishiro nodded.

"I'm going on a trip first, though," he said, without meaning to. Fuuma looked rather impressed.

"He's a lucky guy." Seishiro's heart sped up sharply, but he ignored it along with the comment. He did one last check around to make sure he wasn't leaving anything, then faced Fuuma again.

"I'm uh, I'm gonna go." He held out his hand. Fuuma looked down at it, apparently amused, then stared Seishiro hard in the face. Seishiro felt a surge of Fuuma's power as he leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. He stiffened, feeling a slight head rush, but Fuuma pulled away almost at once.

"Take care, Seishiro."

* * *

Seishiro rolled over onto his other side, listening to the water lapping against the sides of the tub. In retrospect, it was rather sad that they hadn't stayed in touch. Fuuma hadn't really been a friend, but he had been a steady, reassuring presence in Seishiro's otherwise incredibly chaotic life. He was always so present and had a way of making you feel like you weren't carrying everything alone, even if you never told him what "everything" was. Maybe they really could have…

Seishiro curled into a tighter ball, staring at the smooth porcelain side of the tub. He wondered, not for the first time, if they had stayed in contact, would he have reached out to Setsuka after everything that had happened? His stomach clenched. What had he been thinking?

Seishiro and his married man had actually taken their trip together. They'd rented a car and driven out to his beach house in South Jersey. Though Seishiro had tried to remain composed, he stared eagerly out the window the entire drive down. New York City was all he'd ever known, and the new, totally different views amazed him. He watched the skyscrapers and George Washington Bridge change to real, tree lined highways, then narrow, beachy streets. "So this is what the rest of the country looks like?" Seishiro asked, genuinely astonished. His married man laughed and took his hand.

After about three hours, they pulled into the driveway of an old fashioned house on the edge of the ocean. Seishiro got out of the car at once and stared around with wide eyes. It was much colder here than in the city, but the sun shown brightly overhead in the blue, cloudless sky. He inhaled deeply, smelling and hearing the ocean for the first time. His married man came to stand beside him and placed his hand on his lower back. "Thank you for bringing me here," Seishiro said, very seriously, then felt his stomach contract. However, his married man kissed him on the cheek, looking pleased.

"Come on, I'll show you around." Seishiro followed him into the house and looked around with great interest. It was decorated with old fashioned, but very expensive, furniture, and there were photographs and personal effects everywhere. It looked so _lived in_ , even though his married man said no one had been here since the previous summer. It was especially strange because they usually met in hotels, neutral places, but this was so obviously full of his married man and his family it was almost intimidating. Seishiro felt like a ghost, haunting a life that was beyond him.

Setsuka's apartment never had any of this homey clutter around, even when Seishiro was a kid. He wondered, very suddenly, if there had been any photographs of him, what Setsuka had done with them. Probably thrown them away, so they, like the very person he'd been, would vanish. His heart pounded as he noticed one photo in particular, of who must be his married man's son, grinning up at the camera. Seishiro felt his stomach lurch. He was keeping this man from his family by doing this. He was intruding… But no! Seishiro hadn't instigated this or asked for more.

His married man called out to him before he could debate if that made it worse or not.

* * *

Seishiro watched his hand floating like that of a corpse in the bathwater in front of him and sighed heavily. That weekend had been another brief blip of happiness that would of course dissolve just like that others. He remembered it as a blur of sea air, amazing sex and starlight.

However, he had one distinct memory of walking down to the ocean with his married man, the sand strange under his bare feet. He gasped and shivered slightly as he watched the waves crashing powerfully. He'd never learned to swim, but he rolled up his pants legs and stepped into the shallows, crying out at how cold the water was. However, he smiled as the waves rushed up over his feet. He kicked out, splashing and sending water flying. The tiny droplets caught the light, and Seishiro's smile widened. He then stood still, up to his ankles in the water and staring out at the horizon. He liked the way the waves seemed to suck his feet down into the sand as they receded. He imagined letting the ocean just sweep him away, out towards the horizon, wherever it chose…

He started when he felt his married man's hand on his shoulder, but turned to look at him. He had a strange expression on his face. It was a smile, but there was something more, and the green of his eyes sparkled in the sunlight.

* * *

Seishiro rolled over onto his back, then onto his other side. He could still feel the salt sticky on his skin, the sea breeze in his hair and nose. He hadn't been to the beach in years. Maybe once Subaru came back they could go, when it was warm enough, if he behaved himself. Seishiro wondered if his married man still had that house, if he still remembered the weekend they'd spent there together, or if he even thought about him at all.

They'd driven back to the city on Sunday afternoon, holding hands the entire time and looking at each other more often than was necessary. They'd parked outside Seishiro's building on 104th Street and kissed across the front seat of the car for a good fifteen minutes before Seishiro was able to disentangle himself. He went back upstairs with a promise to meet up the following week. His heart throbbed as he entered his new apartment, a tiny studio with only a mattress on the floor for furniture. He lay down on it, staring up and out his window.

Happy memories swirled around inside Seishiro's head for the rest of the week, up until he met his married man again. He entered that same Times Square hotel and took an elevator full of green light upstairs, his heart pounding as he knocked on the door. His married man let him in and kissed him hello, and immediately he knew something was wrong. His married man shut the door and looked at Seishiro, an intense pain in his green eyes. They stared at each other, and Seishiro's stomach began to twist uncomfortably. "I, um-"

"What?" Seishiro asked, rather more aggressively than he'd intended. His married man winced.

"I, I can't keep doing this." The words hung in the air between them.

"Excuse me?" Seishiro asked, though he'd heard correctly the first time. His married man closed his eyes for a moment.

"My wife is getting suspicious, I, I need to take a break." Seishiro's chest constricted painfully around his throbbing heart and his mind seemed to have gone temporarily blank.

"Oh…" He said, slowly, because he had no idea what else to say.

"Do, I mean, do you mind just… I'll be in touch when things have calmed down." Something about that sentence clicked into place for Seishiro, reached him through his blank disbelief. He stared at his married man with raised eyebrows and a cold expression.

"So what, I'm just supposed to wait by the phone?" He asked. His voice was even, though his married man's eyes widened in what might have been fear.

"I-"

"Put all of my shit on hold just in case you want me to come over and fuck you?" Anger blazed suddenly inside Seishiro, though his voice remained composed. He wouldn't lash out. He wouldn't lose control.

"That's not what I said!" His married man cried, flushing.

"Oh?" Seishiro said, his voice vicious. "Because that's what the _fuck_ I heard. My wife might find out I like taking dick up my ass, gotta keep that a secret!"

"What do you want me to do, Seishiro?!" He demanded, taking a step forward. "I don't want to end this, but it is what it is, okay?! I thought you understood that! It's not _my_ fault you want more!" Seishiro balled his hands into fists, but he refused to raise his voice.

" _No_ , don't fucking put this on me! I always knew you were fucking weak!"

"Don't you-"

"No, fuck you!" Seishiro snapped. "I don't ever want to see you again! Have a nice fucking life!"

"Seishiro, wait!"

But Seishiro turned right around and left the hotel room, slamming the door behind him. Anger coursed through his body like hot, caustic poison. He stormed back to the elevator and jabbed the down button with his finger. How _dare_ this man try to use him this way?! After spending all those nights together and taking that trip, he'd just leave Seishiro to wait for him? Please! This was just sex, there weren't feelings! Besides, Seishiro wouldn't wait for _anyone_ , what he gave was far too good, what he got from that man wasn't-

The elevator chimed its arrival and Seishiro stepped into it. The doors closed, plunging him into purple semi-darkness. His heart was still pounding and he was digging his fingernails into his palms, but he closed his eyes and breathed deeply, trying valiantly to calm down. However, as he stepped out onto a dirty, steamy 46th Street, Seishiro paused, feeling like his heart was trying to rip his torso open with every beat. He clutched his chest, feeling suddenly dizzy, and leaned against the side of the building to steady himself. He gasped, his vision blurry, and for a moment he thought he might pass out, but then he blinked, and the tears slid down his face.

Disgust rose sickeningly up his throat and he wiped his eyes impatiently, hating himself and his married man. He remained where he was for a long time, the pain in his chest getting worse and a sense of utter hopelessness settling over him.

Seishiro began to walk, though he had no idea where he was going. All he could think of was trying to get away from this pain, hopelessness and everything else he shouldn't have been feeling. He walked for hours in what he assumed was the direction of his apartment, at last beginning to feel numb, disconnect, withdraw deep inside the body that just kept moving.

It was only when he passed Sara Delano Roosevelt Park that he seemed to come back to himself. He blinked and wiped his eyes impatiently. He was in his old neighborhood, where he'd grown up, by his mother's house. His heart throbbed painfully and his eyes burned. How had he ended up back here? He didn't want to be back here. He'd gotten out! No good would come of him being here!

He shuddered and saw, for the first time in years, his mother's face, clearly in his minds eye, pleading with him to stay. He had rejected her and left, just like countless men before him, and she'd deserved it, and she'd understand… Nausea and longing clenched Seishiro's insides and he felt suddenly exhausted, more than ready to do the thing he swore he'd never do. It wasn't like he had anyone else, now…

Seishiro's body made the decision for him: his feet began to carry him further and further southeast. The neighborhood was much nicer than it had been all those years ago. There were luxurious looking restaurants and expensive boutique shops on his old streets. Could Setsuka even still afford to live here?

Seishiro arrived outside his old building on Clinton Street and stared at the door, remembering so much, yet feeling totally numb to it. He dug his keys out of his pocket and tried the one that used to open this door. It still worked. Seishiro stepped inside and peered around cautiously. The hallway had been painted, and the light was no longer flickering. His eyes fell upon the mailboxes and he hurried over, his mouth dry as he looked for 3F. "Sakurazuka." He wanted to cry out in relief. He sprinted up the stairs and found himself outside the door he thought he'd locked forever. He paused, terrified of what he might find, then unlocked the door and stepped inside.

"AH! WHO THE FUCK-"

"Relax! Setsuka, it's me!"

"What?!" Seishiro shut the door and walked into the kitchen to stand under the only light that was on. "S-seishiro?!" He nodded. Setsuka was standing beside the dining table with her hand at her chest, looking just as he remembered even through her shock. "Oh my god… Where have you _been_?!" Her voice was lower and raspier now. She moved to stand in front of him, her hands over her mouth.

"I," he began, but he had no idea what to say.

"I was so worried, what the _fuck_ is wrong with you?! You could have called, at least!" The words, the tone, it was so familiar, so comforting.

"I'm fucked up, Mother," he told her, softly. "I'm so fucked up…"

"Stop crying!" Was he crying? When had that happened? "Stop crying!" She snapped again, though she was crying way harder than he was. She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him close, her chest heaving with the force of her sobs. Seishiro stiffened in her arms, but didn't try to push her away. "Stop crying…" She breathed. "Stop crying. I love you, I love you more than anyone else in the world…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goodness that was exhausting. Fuuma, though... What do you guys think?
> 
> I think of reviews when I summon my kekkai, leave me some!


	5. 05

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thursday, everybody!
> 
> We're already at the last chapter, can you believe it?! Honestly I'm not sure I can. It still all feels rather surreal to me and I have way too many emotions and thoughts about it to peel separate ones apart, you feel me?
> 
> I will say, I am thrilled to have this finally done and posted and off my chest. As proud as I am of this story and what I've accomplished, I am absolutely exhausted. As I said in the beginning, this story challenged me in many ways, but it also helped me grow and learn a lot, as a writer and as a person. It's been a sprint and it's been an odyssey, and I can't wait to take some time off!
> 
> More importantly though, a huge thank you to every single person who's read this story. Whether you loved it or hated it, left me feedback or not, if you read even one sentence, thank you SO so much. This story wouldn't be what it is without you.
> 
> Anything else? No? I don't think so!
> 
> Enjoy the final chapter!

Seishiro hugged his knees into his chest, his guts twisting sickeningly. Why had he gone back there? What did he think was going to happen? What had he been looking for?

He rolled over onto his back, breathing deeply through his nose and swallowing a sudden wave of nausea. He pressed his fingers to his lips and realized how cold they were. He stared at his hand, pale and shriveled from the bathwater, then stretched his arm up over his head. The air was so much warmer… How long had he been lying here?

Seishiro sat up straight, reached for the switch under the faucet and flipped it. The tub began to empty, and Seishiro wrapped his arms around himself, staring blankly at the tiny cyclone above the drain.

He remembered waking up in his old bedroom and sitting bolt upright, heart racing and breath shallow. He looked wildly around, sure he was having a nightmare, but then the previous night came back to him in sharp, disjointed images and sensations. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to block it out even as prickles of shame and disgust crawled sickeningly down his back. He took a deep breath in and sighed it out, trying to stay focused, letting his hands fall back into his lap.

' _Glasses…_ ' He squinted about, found them on the bedside table and put them on, bringing everything into focus. He stared across the room at his doorway, where Setsuka was slumped in a kitchen chair she'd dragged in here, fast asleep. Had she really spent the night that way? Seishiro found it both disgusting and strangely comforting. "Setsuka." She stirred at once, looking around confusedly, but her expression softened when she focused on Seishiro. In the gentle morning light, he realized how much older she'd gotten.

"Did you sleep well?" She asked, eagerly, her voice gummy from tar and sleep.

"I suppose so." She smiled.

"I sat up here all night to make sure you were okay," she informed him. Seishiro just nodded. "Do you want breakfast?" He shook his head. "Coffee?" Her expression was almost pleading. He sighed softly.

"Sure." She smiled, crossed the room and hugged him.

"I knew you'd come back to me," she breathed, before letting him go and heading into the kitchen. Seishiro ran his fingers through his hair, feeling sick, then got to his feet and followed her.

Everything was exactly as he'd left it, though perhaps dirtier, less lived in. He sat down at the dining table while Setsuka moved about, reaching for the kettle and sending cockroaches scurrying as she shifted a stack of papers on the counter. Seishiro sighed and noticed her pack of cigarettes on the table. He took one without asking, and the room became full of the smell of smoke and instant coffee. "You're smoking now?" Setsuka asked, setting a mug down in front of him. He put out the cigarette in the ashtray on the table as he'd watched her do for years and picked up the mug in both hands. "It's not good for you, you know," she continued, reaching for the cigarette pack and lighting one herself. "So," she said, slowly, turning to stare intently at Seishiro. "Are you going to tell me what you've been up to?" Her tone wasn't as accusatory as it might have been. Seishiro sipped coffee and shuddered.

"I can if you want." She raised her eyebrows, clearly expectant, and Seishiro sighed. "I graduated."

"Congratulations!"

"Thank you." He sipped more coffee.

"I told everyone at work that you went to Columbia for school, but they'd ask what you studied and I didn't know…" Seishiro noted the self-pity in her voice and felt his stomach contract.

"I studied financial engineering," he said, simply. He could tell she didn't understand, but was impressed anyway.

"You always liked math," she said, conclusively. Seishiro's hands tightened around his mug. How could she speak to him this way? As though she knew him well when they'd had no contact in four years? As though she had ever known him at all? They fell into silence, and anger began to simmer inside Seishiro. He should leave. He should definitely leave. "I've been so lonely," Setsuka said, reaching out and squeezing Seishiro's wrist with her cold, bony hand. Seishiro screwed up his eyes and felt a wave of revulsion all the way up his arm. "I've missed you!" Seishiro opened his eyes to find Setsuka's full of tears, and the anger inside him simmered a little faster. "Why didn't you call?! You could have been killed last year, for all I knew!" Her hand shook slightly around Seishiro's wrist. "Why did you leave?!" She demanded, and the tears poured down her face.

Seishiro stared at her, impassive and silent, and through his anger and disgust knew a moment of clarity. He'd never come back here again: this would be his one chance to say everything. He pulled his arm out of her grip and inhaled slowly through his nose. "Why did I leave?" He asked, his tone casual, though Setsuka flinched at the bitterness just beneath. "I left because my entire life in this house was _hell_." Setsuka's eyes widened.

"What?" She sounded utterly confused, which ignited the anger inside Seishiro.

"You fucking know!" He cried, his voice rising alarmingly. "You never even wanted me in the first place, you just kept me around to get back at my father like what the _fuck_ -"

"How dare you!" Setsuka cried, her face white and horrified through her tears.

"And then you bring all those guys around for ' _my_ ' sake, like I asked for that! Why couldn't you just be happy with me?! Why wasn't I enough?!"

"STOP! WHY DO YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO-" But the pustule of resentment and hatred inside Seishiro was suppurating the bitter feelings everywhere and he could do nothing to stop it.

"Like I fucking asked for one of your boyfriends to try and strangle me! Or to lose my virginity to another-"

"WHAT?!" Seishiro's lip curled and he stood up, slamming his palms onto the table and leaning over Setsuka, who stared back with terrified eyes.

"Oh yeah," Seishiro said, his tone low and furious. "The one I caught fingering you? He'd fuck me and then go sleep next to you, how do I taste, _Mother_?"

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" Setsuka screamed. "HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT? HOW CAN YOU TREAT ME THIS WAY?!" Seishiro felt his anger begin to ebb and cold, bitter disgust begin to flow. Setsuka would never take responsibility for what she had done. She would never acknowledge his pain, or perhaps she wasn't even aware of it.

They glared at each other a moment longer before Seishiro straightened up and dug into his pocket for his key ring. Setsuka inhaled sharply as he removed the keys needed to get into this apartment. "Really?!" She demanded, furiously.

"Yes, really!" Seishiro threw the keys down, and they hit the table with a loud, metallic smack and skittered away rather sadly. Setsuka's eyes followed them, then snapped back to Seishiro's face. She looked disgusted. "Fuck you!" Seishiro told her, his voice shaking. "I hope the next time I see you it's when I have to identify your _fucking_ body!"

"SEISHIRO!" But he turned, stormed out of the apartment and slammed the door behind him, molten, caustic anger coursing through him.

* * *

The bathwater had completely drained away, but Seishiro remained still a moment longer, his arms around his knees. At least that had been the last time he'd seen Setsuka. His whole life she had been like a parasite; sucking away at him, demanding everything but remaining convinced she gave everything to everyone else. He couldn't believe he'd ever thought she was worth protecting.

Seishiro gripped the sides of the tub and heaved himself into a standing position, then reached for a towel. The dry scratchy texture was strange against his cold, waterlogged skin as he dried himself off. He was dimly aware he was shivering as he stepped out of the tub, reached for his glasses and put them on. His bathroom came back into focus, though everything still seemed hazy. Everything was always hazy those few times he thought about Setsuka, about all the catastrophically bad decisions she'd made and all the fall out that was his responsibility afterwards.

His own birth, of course, was the most obvious example.

Seishiro returned to his bedroom, which was completely dark now. Was it really that late? He strode into his living room to retrieve his cellphone from the coffee table. Yes, it was late, and there were no missed calls or texts. None yet, anyway. How long would it take Subaru to return to him? A few days? A few weeks? It didn't matter. Seishiro would wait, welcome him back and then punish him for all the trouble he'd caused.

Seishiro picked up his cigarettes and returned to his bedroom. He should try and get some sleep so he'd be able to function at work tomorrow. He threw his cigarettes and cellphone onto his bed, hung his towel on the back of the bathroom door and got into his nightclothes. He turned on his bedside table light, plugged in his cellphone and lit a cigarette before getting into bed, just as he always did. Then Subaru would climb up beside him, on his phone or reading.

The sheets felt icy as Seishiro exhaled smoke, and his eyes strayed irresistibly to the empty space beside him. He found himself wishing Subaru was there again, then wondering where he was, what he was doing. Rather spitefully, he thought again of him and Kamui, trying to fuck and being unfulfilled. Seishiro took a deep pull on his cigarette. It would never work between them; he knew that for a fact. He knew Subaru so well. Subaru would come back to him.

He remembered, suddenly, the night they met, when he'd ventured out of his Tokyo hotel room to go see Madame Butterfly, after finding out it was playing from the hotel staff. He made his way to the New National Theater and took his seat in the dress circle, the best he could get, and looked around with polite interest. He wondered vaguely how this production would differ from those he'd seen in New York and in Europe the other times he'd travelled for work.

A young man and woman, siblings, by the look of them, sat down next to him. The young man was looking around eagerly, bright green eyes shining in excitement. He turned, and caught Seishiro's eye. Seishiro smiled, noticing just how beautiful his face was. "First time here?" He asked. The young man blushed, and Seishiro was immediately intrigued. He hadn't planned on this, but…

"Um, yes."

"I just saw this production in New York, I thought it'd be interesting to compare." That wasn't true. The last time he'd seen this was a good three years ago, but the young man nodded eagerly, which was exactly the effect he'd wanted. "I'm Seishiro Sakurazuka."

"Subaru Sumeragi, very nice to meet you!" They shook hands.

"And I'm Subaru's sister, Hokuto!" The young woman interjected, reaching across Subaru to shake Seishiro's hand too. He knew instinctively that they were close, that getting Subaru away from her would be difficult, though essential.

The first act began, and Seishiro watched the American soldier seduce Butterfly. She fell for his words so easily, and he wondered if Subaru would be this pliable. It certainly seemed so, but he'd probably need more time with him to find out. Before Seishiro even realized what had happened, the first act was over and everyone was applauding.

"That American soldier's a punk!" Hokuto said, emphatically. Seishiro rolled his eyes behind Subaru's back.

"Really?" Subaru asked, and Seishiro listened with rapt attention.

"Obviously! He wasn't in love with her, he was just using her!" Yes, Hokuto was inconveniently sharp.

"Do you think so? That seems unfair," Seishiro said, his tone light, and Subaru turned and gave him a hesitant smile.

"Unfair or not, it's true," Hokuto said, dismissively, and Subaru and Seishiro laughed.

"Can I buy you a drink before the second act starts?" Seishiro asked Subaru before either he or his sister could say anything. Subaru looked at Hokuto. She raised her eyebrows at Seishiro, but nodded. Seishiro led Subaru to the bar in the lobby, then bought both of them drinks. "Cheers," Seishiro said, smiling at how pleased Subaru looked. "So, Subaru Sumeragi," he said, slowly, his lip curling. "What do you do?"

"Nothing," Subaru said at once, apparently without thinking, before taking a hasty sip of his drink. He really was beautiful… Seishiro played soft and encouraging the rest of intermission and Subaru began to open up. He never asked Seishiro anything about himself, though he was clearly curious. Yes, Seishiro definitely wanted him, but it would take time. They finished their drinks and returned to their seats for the second act.

When it was all over, Seishiro, Subaru and Hokuto left together, and she actually gave them some privacy to say goodbye.

"Can I see you again?"

"Yes!"

They exchanged numbers and met up the very next night for dinner. Once again, Seishiro played quiet, supportive and curious, and Subaru became more and more giving and forthcoming under the influence of fine food, alcohol and kind words. "Do you want to come back to my hotel room?" Seishiro asked as he handed their server his credit card. Subaru's eyes widened for a moment, but he nodded, blushing.

Seishiro had debated just going for it then, but as he looked at Subaru, perched on the end of the bed, twisting his hands in his lap and blushing in the soft light, he knew it'd be way more satisfying if he waited just one more night. Instead, he sat down beside him and they talked quietly for another hour or so.

"It's late," Seishiro said, softly. "You should get home or your sister will worry." Subaru nodded, looking both disappointed and relieved. However, before he could stand up, Seishiro tenderly cupped the side of his face and pulled him into a kiss. Subaru let out a soft cry and kissed him back, simultaneously hesitant and desirous. It felt _good_ ; Subaru was special. "I leave for New York the day after tomorrow," Seishiro breathed against his lips when they broke apart. "Come see me one more time."

"Yes!" Subaru cried out, quietly desperate.

* * *

Seishiro put out his cigarette and reclined against his pillows. The memories of the following night flooded him, shocking and visceral, and yet again he wondered if he would throw up.

He spent the day in his job's Tokyo office, finishing all the work he had to do and making plans for his next visit. However, his mind kept straying to what was to come, to seeing Subaru again. For the first time in a long time, he felt curious and excited. What would Subaru be like? What all would they do? He returned to his hotel room and lay in bed, smoking and waiting, his heart pounding.

At last, he heard the knock on the door and jumped up to open it. Subaru stood on the threshold, looking both nervous and needy. "Come in." Subaru stepped inside and Seishiro shut the door.

Immediately he pressed Subaru up against the wall and kissed him fiercely. They broke apart for a split second, then went back for more. Subaru wrapped his arms tight around Seishiro and groaned hard into his mouth, but they broke apart again quickly. Seishiro stared into Subaru's face, so wanting, so eager, so pliable. "Put your arms above your head," he breathed, and Subaru obeyed at once. "Spread your legs." He did that immediately too, and Seishiro was _loving_ it. He held Subaru's wrists together above his head with one hand and undid his pants with the other. Subaru cried out as Seishiro took hold of his erection, he was already so hard… "You want me, don't you?" Seishiro breathed, right in his ear, and Subaru moaned softly, thrusting his hips into his hand.

"Yes!"

"You want me to fuck you?" Subaru went very red and let out another soft cry. Seishiro's lip curled. He'd usually make him answer, but his painfully obvious desire for him was enough, at least for now. "Undress and get into bed," he said, withdrawing and taking his hands away. Subaru obeyed, his blush flooding his neck and chest, and Seishiro's eyes roved over him hungrily. "God you're beautiful," he said, getting undressed as Subaru lay down on his back, naked, exposed and ready.

Seishiro grabbed the lube he'd bought at the drug store the night before and squeezed it over Subaru's erection. He cried out softly and shifted his hips back and forth as it slid down and over his lower belly and between his legs. "God you're beautiful," Seishiro said again, running his first two fingers through the stream of lube before shoving them inside.

Subaru clapped his hand to his mouth and thrust his hips forward, his toes curling. Seishiro used his free hand to seize Subaru's and hold it above his head. "No," he hissed. "I want to hear you scream for me, Subaru…" He moved his fingers inside him in _just_ the right way and Subaru moaned hard, struggling half-heartedly against the restraint. Seishiro's lip curled as he removed his fingers, leaving Subaru gasping and shivering. He then reached for a condom, slid it on and got into position. "You want it?" He whispered, rubbing his erection in the pool of lube and pressing it teasingly up against Subaru, who moaned softly, but opened his eyes and stared Seishiro hard in the face.

"Take me," he said, very seriously, and it was probably the hottest thing Seishiro had ever heard.

' _Yes, you're mine!_ ' He thought, thrusting inside.

It didn't last long, but Seishiro didn't care, it all felt way too good. He thrust hard and deep into Subaru, over and over again, the friction and pressure, his moans, his skin… "Fuck!" Seishiro cried in a choked voice, finishing deep inside him. Subaru moaned appreciatively and tightened his legs around his waist. Seishiro allowed himself a moment to recover, then swallowed and reached between them to take hold of Subaru's erection. He wanted to make him come, watch it, feel it and hear it. Subaru cried out and threw his head back as Seishiro got him off with his hand, watching him writhe and shiver and cry out with profound satisfaction.

Seishiro pulled out with a heavy sigh and peeled off the condom. He lay down beside Subaru, who took his hand, still gasping and shivering. They stayed that way for a long time, gently aware of each other, their heavy breathing the only sound breaking their satisfied silence. "Seishiro?" Subaru asked softly. Seishiro turned to look at him.

"Yes?" Subaru bit his lip, then kissed Seishiro tenderly on the lips and squeezed his hand.

"Can, can we go again?"

* * *

Seishiro lit another cigarette, waiting for the memories to drain out of his mind and for the erection they'd given him to go away. He exhaled smoke and looked over at the space in bed next to him, though obviously Subaru wasn't there.

He felt a strange gnawing in his chest and pressed his hand against his breastbone. Subaru had called him the best sex of his life, so many of his firsts. They both knew everything Seishiro had done for him. No wonder Subaru had been so desperate to follow him back to New York, but then…

However, before any bitter or resentful feelings could arise, Seishiro wondered for the first time what all _he'd_ gotten from their time together. Seishiro never expected anything from anyone, although, if relationships were just about what you got from the other person, what did he get from Subaru? What made him stick around despite the distance, the inconvenience and his interfering sister?

Seishiro took another drag from his cigarette. The sexual gratification was obvious, but there was more. He supposed he liked having Subaru around when he was behaving himself. He made Seishiro look good, so young and beautiful on his arm. He was also attentive, always listening and ready to do whatever Seishiro wanted. However, it went beyond even that.

Subaru always wanted to do things for Seishiro, to devote himself to him while asking for nothing in return. He… He _always_ wanted Seishiro. Even when someone had come between them, usually Hokuto, Subaru would put him first. Was this because Subaru actually saw him for himself, rather than just how he related to him? Even before Subaru had called him "my boyfriend," he was devoted. Devoted to Seishiro, independently of the title, regardless of his strangeness and inescapable otherness. Seishiro was enough.

The gnawing in Seishiro's chest was painful now. He kept breathing deeply, wishing it would go away. He took a final, fierce drag from his cigarette and exhaled.

Yes, Subaru always put him first, unlike anyone else he'd ever been involved with. Subaru hadn't been lying when he said he loved him, and Seishiro realized, with another stabbing pain in his chest, that he hadn't been lying either. He loved Subaru, because Subaru loved him as no one else had.

He shuddered, wondering yet again if he'd be sick as he put out his cigarette, took off his glasses and shut off the bedside table light. He lay down in the darkness, facing the side of the bed where Subaru usually slept, where he'd be sleeping again once he came back. Even though Subaru had been led astray, he'd return, because they loved each other, because they were the best people for each other.

Seishiro closed his eyes and willed himself to fall asleep quickly. He shuddered, the pain in his chest worse than ever, his stomach twisting and throat burning. Subaru had better come back. He was the only person who had ever done these things for Seishiro, and who probably ever would. Subaru was special, and even if there was another like him, Seishiro already knew he couldn't be bothered to find him.

Seishiro rolled over, facing away from Subaru's side of the bed and curling around himself under the blankets as if trying to suffocate the pain and unpleasant feelings inside him. Subaru would come back. Subaru would come back. Subaru would come back…

A shiver began at the back of his neck, but as it radiated outwards, the pain inside him seemed to ease very slightly. He repeated the words to himself over and over like the lullabies no one ever sang him.

Subaru would come back… Subaru would come back… Subaru would come back…

Eventually, Seishiro was able to drift off to sleep, and he heard the words in his dreams, spoken softly, warmly, lovingly.

_Subaru will come back._

_You won't be alone._

_You aren't so unlovable._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you all SO much for reading. I hope you enjoyed it even though it was painful. Believe me, I'm right there with you. I'll be spending some time mourning this fic, but I'll be back with some OC in the near future, so please don't forget me too soon!
> 
> I think of reviews when I summon my kekkai, leave me some!

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be updating this every Thursday morning, see you next week!
> 
> I think about reviews when I summon my kekkai, leave me some!


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